


•^% 



M .v.,/:h^'k!'-l'S 



HAPPINESS 
AND OTHER PLAYS 



JHARTLEY MANNERS 




Class __^ 
Book_i_ 



--y 



GopjTight}!?. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



DRAMATIC WORKS OF J. HARTLEY MANNERS 



HAPPINESS 

AND 

OTHER PLAYS 



BY THE SAME A UTHOR 

• • 


• 
*'Peg O' My Heart" 


A Novel founded hy Mr. Man- 


ners on his Comedy of Youth 


of the same title. 



HAPPINESS 
AND OTHER PLAYS 



.^ BY 

J. HARTLEY MANNERS 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1914 






Copyright, 1914 
By DODD, mead and COMPANY 



OCT I 1914 



©GI,A379824 



0^ 



TO 
LAURIE 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Happiness, A Study 1 

Just as Well, A Twentieth-Century Romance . 71 
The Day of Dupes, An Allegory 125 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING 
PAGE 



" Shabby Jenny " 4 

"Doleen'* 74 

"The 'Dupe'" 130 

"Many Happy Returns" 150 



PRODUCED AT THE CORT THEATRE 

NEW YORK CITY 

ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, MARCH 6th, 1914 

WITH THE FOLLOWING CASTS 

HAPPINESS 
A STUDY 

Philip Chandos H. Reeves-Smith 

Fritz Scowcroft Peter Bassett 

Mrs. Chrystal-Pole Violet Kemble-Cooper 

Jenny Laurette Taylor 

JUST AS WELL 
A TWENTIETH CENTURY ROMANCE 

Hon. Doleen Sweetmarch Laurette Taylor 

Mrs. Carfax Emilie Melville 

Maid Yvonne Jarrette 

Captain Trawbridge Hassard Short 

THE DAY OF DUPES 
AN ALLEGORY 

The Artist H. Reeves-Smith 

The Politician Clarence Handy side 

The Financier Reginald Mason 

The Litterateur Hassard Short 

The Attendant Emilie Melville 

The * Dupe ' Laurette Taylor 



HAPPINESS 
Writteth in 1914 



*' Do ye know what I think happiness is really? 
Lookin* forward.'* 



CHARACTERS 

Philip Chandos Mrs. Chrystal-Pole 

Fritz Scowcroft Jenny 

The action passes in Mrs. Chrystal-Pole's Apartment 
in New York City, toward evening on a long May day. 




•shabby jexxy 



HAPPINESS 

/ The curtain discloses a comfortably furnished room of a 
modern apartment-house. The furniture is neither 
elaborate nor tawdry. The hangings and pictures are 
in good taste, yet without the personal note of selec- 
tion being apparent. ' The effect is that of affluence 
without enthusiasm. An owner of beautiful things 
with the sense of beauty lacking in the owner. 

/ Mrs. Chrystal-Pole, a charming young widow of 
twenty-seven, is lying ini a window-seat, fast asleep; \ 
the sun streaming in on her naturally clear complexion 
and genuinely blonde hair. The face is quite at rest, 
the features relaxed, the breathing slight. She is 
evidently in a light, dreamless sleep. 

Fritz Scowcroft, a burly, genial, hearty man of fifty- 
five, is standing with his back to the mantelpiece, good- 
naturedly waiting for her to wake. He is whistling 
a tune under his breath. After a few seconds he looks 
at his watch, smiles, turns round and adjusts his hair 
and tie in the mirror, then walks quietly over to the 
door, opens it and is about to' pass out when Mrs. 
Pole stretches lazily and yawns heartily. 

scowcroft 
[Turns in doorway.] Awake, "Mouse-y"? 
■C 5 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

\Loohs at him languidly.'] Yts, father — for a min- 
ute. [^Closes her eyes and settles herself hack to sleep 
again.] 

SCOWCROFT 

[Closes door, goes to Mrs. Pole and beams down at 
her. He gently tugs at the point of her shoe. Once 
again Mrs. Pole opens her eyes and looks at him smil- 
ing down at her good-naturedly.] ^ Make it five minutes, 
will ye? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Looks at ScowcROFT steadily; she gradually straight- 
ens up; the lassitude slowly disappears.] 

SCOWCROFT 

Wide awake .^ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh, yes; I suppose so: for the rest of the evening. 
What is it.J^ 

SCOWCROFT 

Dropped in to see ye. Told the maid not to wake 
ye. So I just stood about for a bit. I was going when 
you waked up. Everj^thing all right? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Deadly dull. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Sits down near her.] All alone here? 
< 6 y 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

SCOWCROFT 

No companion — or — anyone ? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

Wh}^ don't ye come home? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What for.^ 

SCOWCROFT 

Less lonesome for ye. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Think so? 

SCOWCROFT 

Yer mother does. Will ye? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

Why not? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'd rather stay here. 

SCOWCROFT 

Are ye happy? 

-C 7 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Not a bit. 

SCOWCROFT 

Yer mother and I are worrying about ye. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

You've no need to. 

SCOWCROFT 

Still grievin' over Mark? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

He was a good husband to ye, wasn't he? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POI.E 

Was he? 

SCOWCROFT 

He always seemed to be — to me. Wasn't he? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I suppose so — as husbands go. 

SCOWCROFT 

Let me see — how long's he been dead ? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh, a year — or ten months, or — really I've forgot- 
ten. 

SCOWCROFT 

That's a funny way to talk of yer dead husband. 
-C 8 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I don't want to talk about him at all. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Looks at her in a puzzled, curious manner. '\ Feel 
well.?* 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Impatiently. 1 Oh, yes. Physically — quite well. 

SCOWCROFT 

Sleep all right .^ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Looks like it. 

SCOWCROFT 

Eat good? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

SCOWCROFT 

Then what's the matter. Mouse? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I don't know, I suppose I'm just rusting out. 

SCOWCROFT 

Rusting? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

You either keep bright or rust. I don't keep bright, 
so I suppose I must be rusting. 
< 9 > 



HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 

Do you go out much? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

See many people? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

Why don't ye? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh, what's the use? I'm tired of the old ones and 
the nem ones are impossible. What's the use? 

SCOWCROFT 

You need rousing. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I suppose I do. 

SCOWCROFT 

Be up and doing. Nothing like it. Sets the blood 
circulating and clears the brain. Go out more. Meet 
people. Ever go to the opera now? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Never. 

SCOWCROFT 

Why don't ye? 

-C 10 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 



I've been. 



SCOWCROFT 

Go again. It grows on you. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What — for instance ? 

SCOWCROFT 

Drop in the Italian nights. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Italian opera is done to death. They haven't thought 
of a new theme in fifty years. The same old motifs all 
over again. 

SCOAVCROFT 

I love 'em. I never miss '' Rigoletto." Thousands 
like me. The house is always packed. [Smgs " La 
Donne e Mobile/*] Ta ta ta lum ti tum. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Closes her eyes.] Don't. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Stops singing. Thinks. Then suddenly:] You 
used to like Wagner. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I was a child then. One grows out of Wagner as one 
does out of one's clothes. After a while neither fit. I 
can't bear them now. Noisy beasts. They scream at 
you until you can't hear them. 

-C 11 > 



HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 

I like *em — once a year. Shakes one up. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

So does a house-cleaning. 

SCOWCROFT 

Well, what about the theatre ? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What about it.> 

SCOWCROFT 

Do you ever go? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Never. 

SCOWCROFT 

You used to. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I don't any more. I hate being improved. I detest 
uncleanliness. I loathe disease. Why waste evenings 
out of a life we live but once, watching both under the 
guise of "improvement".'' 

SCOWCROFT 

That's true. They are a bit raw just now. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Very. 

SCOWCROFT 

Why don't ye travel then? That 'ud wake you up. 
-C 12 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Would it? 

SCOWCEOFT 

Finest thing in the world. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Where? 

SCOWCROFT 

How about Switzerland? On top of the mountains. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

They make me dizzy. 

SCOWCROFT 

Oh! Wellj the Rhine, then? Up one day and down 
the next. Keep on the move all the time. Eh? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I detest German cooking. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Crestfallen.'] Do ye? [Brightens.] Italy! The 
wonderful galleries. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I can't bear their railways — and galleries weary me. 
Besides, I've seen them. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Persevering.] Well, take a run over to Paris. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Shivers.] Horrible ! Over-dressed women and un- 
der-bred tourists. — Oh, no ! No more travelling. 
-C 13 > 



HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 

I don't know. I like Paris still. [Laughs and 
chuckles to himself as old-time memories revive. Then 
he proceeds again to question his daughter.^ Read 
much? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

SCOWCROFT 

' You used to love it. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I don't any more. 

SCOWCROFT 

That's a pity. There are some of the biggest writers 
today there have ever been. I read 'em all. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

For instance.^ 

SCOWCROFT 

[Thinhs.'] Wells! There's a great chap. A good, 
solid thinker. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Microscopic and middle-class. He gives one mental 
indigestion. 

SCOWCROFT 

You don't tell me. / find him very satisfactory. Do 
ye like Arnold Bennett? ' 

. (I <^^> 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Not at all. He's as insular as the people in an Eng- 
lish omnibus. 

SCOWCROFT 

That so? Bright and original, I'd call him. Then 
there's Galsworthy. He has something to say. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

He looks upon himself as a missionary. He is always 
— apparently — trying to reform something that hasn't 
existed for years. He is most irritating. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Despondently.'] Dear me! He always gives me 
something to think about. [Suddenly.'] Ah! Shaw! 
Bernard Shaw! What about him? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

He suggests nothing so much as an imitation diamond. 

SCOWCROFT 

Diamond? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Imitation! He glitters but doesn't stand analysis. 
He makes one so sorry for the dead and the living he 
is borrowing from. They put things so much better. 

SCOWCROFT 

Don't ye find him amusing? I do. 
-C 15 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I suppose it is amusing to find a writer editing every- 
one else under the mask of originality. He makes me 
furious. [Pause.] I hate reading. Especially novels. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Laughs uneasily.] You're in a bad way, " Mouse-y " ! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Drop the " y/' father, please. It doesn't suit any- 
thing. '' Mouse " is bad enough, but " Mouse-y "1 
Atrocious ! 

SCOWCROFT 

[Cheerfully.] All right, dear. Anything to please 
ye. Why don't you go into one of the "movements ''} 
Match your brain with others. Ye're clever enough. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I dislike talking — and I abhor listening. 

SCOWCROFT 

Well, then, take up science. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Don't! Bumpy foreheads, furrowed faces and spec- 
tacles! Don't! 

SCOWCROFT 

Humph ! Go out in the air much } 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. I can't bear walking. 

-c 16 :^ 



HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 

Ride horseback? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Too jolty. 

SCOWCROFT 

Get an automobile. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I have one. 

SCOWCROFT 

Use it much? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Never. It's so monotonous. If one goes fast enough 
everything seems the same. 

SCOWCROFT 

You used to paint. Good pictures, too, I thought. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I couldn't draw a straight line, now. 

SCOWCROFT 

Well, then, write something yerself. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No one could read it. And if they could, they 
wouldn't. 

SCOWCROFT 

You need a change. Go and live in the country. 

-c 17 :^ 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. 
And the insects! The town's bad enough — but the 
country — unbearable. 

SCOWCROFT 

Ye could grow flowers — and things. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Flowers make me ill. They always remind me of a 
sick-room or a stupid opera. Senseless things. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Dejectedly.] Oh! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Looks up at him.] jNo^, father! I'm afraid there's 
no loophole. 

SCOWCROFT 

Ever think of marryin' again? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Good heavens^ no! I've tried it. Nothing in it. 

SCOWCROFT 

You used to love Mark. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 
Did If 

SCOWCROFT 

[Reproachfully.] " Mouse " ! 
-C 18 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I suppose I did. — At first. And afterwards — when 
he was away. Poor Mark ! He was alwaj^s trying to 
make jokes. Such bad ones, too. Why do some men 
think it their sole duty to try and amuse us ? So many 
husbands remind me of the clown in a child's circus. 
They must be funny at all costs. It makes life so 
pathetic, doesn't it.^ 

SCOWCROFT 

I don't know. I make a few myself once in a while. 
like cheerfulness. Yer mother laughs_, — sometimes. 
Are ye goin' to live on here.^ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I suppose so. 

SCOWCROFT 

How long? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I haven't the least idea. Until something happens, I 
suppose. 

SCOWCROFT 

Something happen.^ What could happen? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

That's it. What? Nothing could make life worth 
while now — except a miracle. And the age of miracles 
is past, isn't it? j 

-C 19 > 



HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 

[Changes his whole manner; takes her hand and pats 
it.] Sorry, " Mouse." I've done all I could, haven't I? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Have you? 

SCOWCROFT 

Yes. Both your mother and I have. Ever since ye 
were a baby. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I suppose so. Fed me and dressed me and had me 
taught and then married me off. What more can 
parents do? 

SCOWCROFT 

I don't know of anything more we could have done. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL.-POLE 

It's a wonderful life — for a woman — to be born of 
good, rich parents, isn't it? Everything done for her. 

SCOWCROFT 

It was for you. Anything to make you happy. 
That's all we cared for. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

And what's the result? [Here I am, an wwhappy, 
tired, old woman of twenty-seven. The poorest girl in 
this city is happier than I am. 

SCOWCROFT 

Are ye reproachin' me? 

-C 20 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No, fatlier, I'm not. You had your life to live. 
You've lived it. You've worked hard. You've suc- 
ceeded. But, oh, how often I've seen the children of 
hard-working, successful men come into the world old 
and careworn and disillusioned. J The parents had put 
their best into their lives. Then the child came along, 
tired of the struggle before beginning. Comfort de- 
stroys the incentive to effort. Those who have never 
known poverty have, sometimes, but little sympathy with 
the poor. The selfish don't know pity. I don't. Too 
much has been given me — too much done for me. It's 
a curious, sordid, world-weary life to the child of the 
undeveloped rich. 

SCOWCROFT 

I don't know that I've been particularly selfish. I've 
given to the poor. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL.-POLE 

But you've never lived among them. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Indignantly.] Lived with them? I should think 
not. I worked hard all my life so that I wouldn't have 
to. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

It might have been better for us — for me perhaps — 

if we had. Sometimes I've looked from the window of 

our car and envied a little group of bright-eyed, pinched- 

faced working girls, laughing in the streets in their 

-C 21 > 



HAPPINESS 

lunch-hour. The world is all before them. It has a 
sense of mystery. It's never had any for me. [Sighs.'] 
Where will it all end? [The telephone bell rings.] 
Don't go, father. [Mrs. Pole goes to the telephone, 
takes off the receiver.] Well? [Pause.] Yes. 
[Pause.] Yes, — I*m at the *phone. [Pause.] Who? 
[Pause.] Spell it. [Pause. Spells it aloud and zvrites 
the name on the telephone-pad.] C-h-a-n-d-o-s. Oh, 
yes. Tell him to come up. [Hangs up receiver and goes 
to ScowcROFT.] Philip Chandos. Remember him? 

SCOWCROFT 

Old Silas Chandos's son? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. Another of us. 

SCOWCROFT 

How? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

His father bought something, or invented something, 
or found something in the ground that didn't belong to 
him, and made a fortune. Then he brought Philip into 
the world. 

SCOWCROFT 

I remember Phil when he was a boy. A very bright 
lad. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Was he? Look at him now. 
-C 22 > 



HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 



Now? 



MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Walking about until the end comes, — doing nothing 
worth while. 

SCOWCROFT 

Well^ he aught to be ashamed of himself. His father 
worked hard enough. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Too hard. That's the pity. He cursed his son with 
a fortune, so there's no need for Phil to work. He just 
drifts along. One of us. .1 

SCOWCROFT 

You put it all on the fathers, eh? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POI^ 

A great deal. 

SCOWCROFT 

I am sorry I came now. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POI^ 

Don't say that. 

SCOWCROFT 

I came in all good-nature and cheerfulness. Now I 
feel ag if I'd been to a funeral. Ye've taken all the 
life out of me. [Goes toward the door.l 

-C 23 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAI.-POI.E 

Won't you stay a little longer? Mr. Chandos is com- 
ing up. 

SCOWCROFT 

No. I don't want to meet him. If money, care and 
love have done this for you, I'd rather not have made 
anything. You've made me thoroughly miserable. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POI^ 

I make everyone miserable who comes near me, father. 

SCOWCROFT 

\^Stands over her, looking down at her gloomily.^ 
How is it all going to end ? I am afraid for ye. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

There was a time when I was afraid for myself. I 
don't care now. 

[Enter Philip Chandos, a tired, worn-loohing man of 
thirty-five. He is scrupulously dressed, and has the 
hearing of a man of culture and breeding. He is 
bored in manner and disillusioned in outlooh. He 
hows gravely and courteously to Mrs. Pole: loohs in- 
quiringly at ScowcROFT'; then gives him a faint glance 
of recognition.'] 

CHANDOS 

. Mr. Scowcroft? 

V 

SCOWCROFT 

Philip Chandos.? 

-C 24 > 



HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

Yes. [They shake hands.'] 

SCOWCROFT 

Yer father and I were old friends. 

CHANDOS 
I know. 

SCOWCROFT 

Years ago. 

CHANDOS 

It must have been. He's dead twenty. 

SCOWCROFT 

No, sir, ten. 

CHANDOS 

Is that all? It seems twenty. 

SCOWCROFT 

One of the finest men of his day. 

CHANDOS 

So they tell me. 

SCOWCROFT 

What do you mean — " So they tell you "? 

CHANDOS 

Oh, several people speak nicely of him. 

SCOWCROFT 

Well? 

-C 25 > 



HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

They didn't have to live with him. / did. 

SCOWCROFT 

l^Sternly.'] It would be a good thing for you if ye 
were more like him. 

CHANDOS 

Think so? 

SCOWCROFT 

Yes, I do. 

CHANDOS 

I don't. [Crosses to Mrs. Pole and greets her 
wearily. 1 

SCOWCROFT 

Your father left his mark on his time, Mr. Philip 
Chandos. 

CHANDOS 

I know he did. He bled his time for all he could 
make out of it. 

SCOWCROFT 

You ought not to kick. He left you pretty well oiF. 

CHANDOS 

I don't kick about that. But if my father were alive 
today and practiced the same methods he did in " his 
time," he would die in the penitentiary. I've lived on 
the proceeds of his dishonesty. 

•C 26 > 



HAPPINESS 

SCOWCROFT 

That's a nice way to speak of one of the most re- 
spected men in his country. 

CHANDOS 

I didn't mean to be nice. I'm carrying his burden^ and 
hundreds like me. My father profited by his roguery, 
then he married and brought me into the world and had 
all the glory of being my father. I have all the reproach 
of being his son. And I suffer every day of my life 
because he made a disreputable fortune, left it to me — 
and nothing else. 

SCOWCROFT 

/You're a fine son. 

CHANDOS 

Am I.'* I don't think so. At least, I don't pretend 
to be. He always posed as a good father — and he got 
away with it. 

SCOWCROFT 

Well, I'm ! [Breaks off.] Oh, there's no en- 
couragement today in bringing children into the world. 

CHANDOS 

I know there isn't. That's why so many have given 
up doing it. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Furiously. 1 Bah ! 

-C 27 > 



HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

[Quietly.^ Just so. \^Turns his bach on Scow- 
croft.] 

SCOWCROFT 

[To Mrs. Pole.] Good-bye. 

MRS. CIIRYSTAL-POLE 

Good-bye, father. 

SCOWCROFT 

I don't know what's the matter with young people to- 
day. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POL-E 

The trouble is they're not young, father. They never 
have been. They're born old. 

SCOWCROFT . > 

[Scowling at Mrs. Pole and Chandos.] ( You're a 
fine pair of specimens ! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Smiles sadly up at him.] Aren't Vv'e? 

SCOWCROFT 

I'm glad your mother didn't come. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POEE 

[Quietly.] So am I. 

SCOWCROFT 

[Goes to door, turns and points to Chandos, ad- 
dressing Mrs. Pole.] I leave hvm to you. \ 
-C 28 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CIIRYSTAL-POLE 

As a legacy, father? 

SCOWCROFT 

[Angrili/.] Bah! [Goes out of the room.'] 

CIIANDOS 

[After a pause looks at Mrs. Pole. They both 
laugh.'] /He seems angry. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

He is. About us. He doesn't approve of us.j 

CHANDOS 

[With a comprehensive gesture.] Oh! The last gen- 
eration! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Rather tough on the present, isn't it.^* 

CHANDOS 

Very. [Sighs and xcalhs away, dejectedly.] 

MRS. CPIRYSTAL-POI,E 

[Watching him.] What's the trouble .^^ 

CHANDOS 

/ I'd like a chat. You understand things. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Bothered.^ 

CHANDOS 

A bit. 

-C 29 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

All right. Let us talk. 

CHANDOS 

[Sits on couch, near her.'] I was in court today. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes? 

CHANDOS 

I'm free. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 
Oh. 

CHANDOS 

There was no use dragging on. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Of course not. 

CHANDOS 

She would never have got rid of me. So / had to get 
rid of her. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I see. 

CHANDOS 

Wretched mess of things, isn't it? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh, I don't know. You can start afresh. 
-C 30 > 



HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

Oh, no. Once is enough. [Thinks for a moment: 
then sighs heavily. ~\ Lord! When ye look back! Re- 
member the weddin'? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Distinctly. 

CHANDOS 

Pretty bride, wasn't she.'' 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I thought so. 

CHANDOS 

/ wasn't so bad, then. [With a little half -smile.'] 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

You looked like a boy. 

CHANDOS 

And my old dad ! All over the place ! Proud as a 
peacock! Strutting about! [Pause.] God Almighty! 
Makes one seem a hundred. [Pause.] What a muck of 
things. [Pause.] Had the ball at my feet then, hadn't 
I? [Pause.] Now here I am — back where I was. 
[Pause.] What a mess! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

We've both mashed it up, haven't we.^* 

CHANDOS 

Rather. ^ 

-C 31 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-rOLE 

What'll you do? 

CHANDOS 

Don't know. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POIxE 

Go away? 

CHANDOS 

Think not. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Stay around? 

CHANDOS 

I suppose so. Dodge the clubs for a while and avoid 
the restaurants. People forget. Other scandals come 
along and push your own out. Everybody forgets every- 
thing, if ye give *em time. [Pause.'\ Then I'll blossom 
out some day when it's all over. [Pause. 1 After all, 
it's just a milestone. A bit of life chopped off. A few 
more dead years to look back on. An infinity of dreary 
ones to look forward to. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I know that feeling. I've had it often. 

CHANDOS 

Have ye? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh, often. 

^ 32 > 



HAPPINESS 

CHAXDOS 

What do you do? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Nothing. Just let it have its own way. 

CHAXDOS 

So do I. Then I start off huntin' again, 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

For what? 

CHAXDOS 

Happiness. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do you ever find it? 

CHANDOS 

I haven't so far. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do you hope to? 

CHAXDOS 

Sometimes — when the mornin's bright. I get 
spasms of optimism now and again. 



I envy you.j 



MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 



CHAXDOS 

I haven't had one for a long time. It's about due. 
Maybe tomorrow — if the sun is shinin'. 
-C 33 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I don't remember one since I was a girl. 

CHANDOS 

That so? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-FOLE 

After all, what is this thing we call life.^ What does 
it mean to us who are supposed to have everything we 
want? One grey day after another. We start afresh 
every morning with a round of empty, futile occupations. 
At night we go to a restless sleep — with nothing ac- 
complished. What is our one ambition? What are we 
all striving for? To kill time. 

CHANDOS 

Well, we have one consolation. li we don't succeed — 
time will — in killing us. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

That's about all there is to look forward to. We're 
a useless lot, Phil. 

CHANDOS 

I know / am. 

^ MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Take my case: my father's worked all his life — 

CHANDOS 

So did mine. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

My mother's never done anything. 
-C 34 > 



HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 



Nor did mine. 



MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Both are of the earth. What was my upbringing? 
Everything done for me by servants. I used to see my 
parents a few minutes a day. Then they'd be too tired 
to give me any attention. Just caresses that meant 
nothing. My father passed his life making money. My 
mother spending it. The only people who visited us 
were greedy, grasping, hard-headed business men, or 
foolish, stupid, chattering idiots. As I grew older, any- 
thing I wanted I was given without question or restraint. 
Everything came to me without an effort. Think of my 
girlhood. I liked music. I was taken to concerts and 
recitals and operas until I was weary of them. The 
theatre ! I went until I knew every trick. All the illu- 
sions went. I wanted to travel. By twenty-one I had 
been dragged all over Europe until the screech of a 
train or the scream of a ship's horn disgusted me. I was 
the lucky one of fortune. I craved for money. A re- 
lation died and left me an independence. Everything 
I've longed for I've had. And always without a strug- 
gle ! And everything has disappointed me. At twenty- 
three I married. Hunted happiness again. He was the 
catch of the year. My luck seemed to hold good. In 
three months I loathed him. A year ago — or less — 
he died. For a while I breathed freely. Now I am once 
more on the hunt — as you are. 

^ 35 > 



HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

And I'm a shockin' bad hunter. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

So am I. The quarry eludes me just as I try to grasp 
it. [Both sigh, then look at each other and laugh.] 

CHANDOS 

Your father is right. We're a fine pair. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Rises and walks about.] 



ii 



CHANDOS 

Any plans tonight? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 



CHANDOS 

Let's go somewhere? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Stay here^ if you like. 

CHANDOS 

Too restless for that. Let us go and watch the others 
worryin'. Take our minds off ourselves. \ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Where? 

CHANDOS 

I don't care. Any of ten. 

< S6 y 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I thought you didn't want to be seen? 

CHANDOS 

Doesn't matter tonight. I'll look 'em over for the 
last time — for a while. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POI.E 

All right. 

CHANDOS 

Kind of farewell dinner, eh.^ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

CHANDOS 

/I'll go round and dress and come back and call for 
jUii. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'll be ready. [Telephone rings. Takes up receiver.'] 
Hello. [Pause.] Yes. [Pause.] What is it? [Pause.] 
Oh! Send them up. [Hangs up receiver. Looks up 
smilingly at Chandos.] This is really an event. 

CHANDOS 

Oh? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

A new dress. 

CHANDOS 

From Paris? 

-C 37 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Shudders.'] Good heavens, no! The dresse¥"'T^iey^ 
send us are only worn by cocottes in France. This is 
an experiment with a new dressmaker. If it's a success, 
I'll wear it tonight. 

CHANDOS 

Do. Your eyes are brighter. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POL.E 

Are they? 

CHANDOS 

And there's a gleam of color in your face. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes? 

'' CHANDOS 

Excited? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Almost. 

CHANDOS 

Splendid. [Pause.'] I wish I could get a thrill. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I said it was an event. 

CHANDOS 

You're lucky. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Fancy, feeling a new dress here. [Touches her heart.'] 
-C 38 > 



HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

[Nods.'\ I know. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Significant, isn't it? 

CHANDOS 

Yes. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Smiles.'] We are a fine pair. 

CHANDOS 

[Goes to door.] About half an hour? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Heaps of time. 

CHANDOS 

I hope it will be a success. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 
So do I. 

CHANDOS 

Round off the evening, won't it? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. [Knock on the door.] 

[Chandos opens it and admits Jenny, a shop-girl, 
carrying two large boxes, one containing a dress and 
the other a hat. She is a small, thin, shabby girl of 
nineteen with keen bright eyes/', a quiet, rapid deliv- 
ery and a whole-hearted, healthy, exuberant manner.] 
-C 39 > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[Looking up at Chandos.] Mrs. Chrystal-Pole ? 

CHANDOS 

[Indicates Mrs. Pole.] 

JENNY 

[Plumps the parcels down.] Breakin' both my arms. 

CHANDOS , K J^ 

Half an hour. [Going out.'] u 'y^^J^ \^ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Like to look at them? 

CHANDOS 

[In doorway.] Not now. I'll wait and see them on 
you. It may be an event for me. [Goes out,] 

[Jenny stands xuaiting for instructions, hands on hips, 
balancing on one foot, in the attitude of one who has 
to stand all day.] 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Open them out. I'jl call you when I want you. 
[Goes into the other room.] 

[Jenny undoes the bundles, humming vigorously all the 
time. She takes the hat out first and looks at it with 
a gasp of joy. Then she takes out the dress. She 
stares at it with wide open eyes. She thinks a mo- 
ment, then listens intently — makes up her mind, 
throws off her jacket and slips the dress on. She 

-C 40 > 



HAPPINESS 

laughs gleefully, whips off her hat and puts on the 
new one and runs to the mirror to see her reflection. 
Mrs. Pole comes in quietly behind her and stands 
looking at her. Jenny sees Mrs. Pole in the mirror; 
she looks at her in horror, then turns guiltily, snatches 
off the hat and begins struggling to get out of the 
dress.'] 

JENNY 

[^Huskily. 1 I beg your pardon, lady. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

How dare you put those things on? 

JENNY 

I just couldn't help it. I'd never had a four-hundred- 
dollar dress on me back before^ or a hundred-dollar hat 
on me head. I just couldn't help it. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Take thena back. I don't want them. 

JENNY 

[^Gives a little gasp.] Oh! [Piteously.] Don't do 
that^ lady. Please don't do, that. They'd turn me 
away. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Take them back. \_Goes to table, sits and writes a 
letter.] 

[Jenny watches her; her lips quivering, her eyes filling. 
She struggles out of the dress, folds it and begins to 

< " > 



HAPPINESS 

put it hack in the box. She is crying quietly. Sud- 
denly a sob escapes her. Mrs. Pole turns and looks 
at her. Jenny wipes her eyes stealthily with the 
back of her hand. She puts the hat in the box and 
begins to cover it with the lid. Mrs. Pole walks 
over to her and stands looking down at her. Jenny 
shrinks down and lowers her eyes."] 

JENNY 

I know I oughtn't to have done it. [aSo6.] Couldn't 
ye let me off this once? \^Sob.'] I'll never do such a 
thing again. [Sob.'] Really I won't. [Sob.'] Couldn't 
ye — let — me — off — this — once — lady ? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Give it me. 

JENNY 

[Hurriedly takes out the hat and hands it to Mrs. 
Pole. She is half -laughing, half -crying.] Oh, thank 
ye, lady. Thank ye. 

[Mrs. Pole takes the hat, goes to the mirror and puts 
it on.] 

JENNY 

[Gleefully takes out the dress, snuffling back her tears 
and chuckling with relief. She goes to Mrs. Pole and 
stands looking at her, mouth open, eyes fixed soulfully 
on the hat.] My ! — It's — it's wonderful ! — On you! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE. 

It's too long this side. 

•C 42 > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[Quickly.l Do ye think so? It suits your Zow^ stj'^le. 
Anyone can wear them skimpy ones. Very few ladies 
could wear that. [Pause. Then in a tone of awed ad- 
miration.'\ I think it's wonderful. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POI,E 

[A little more interested.'] Rather becoming. 

JENNY 

It's a dream — I think. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Bring the dress in here. [Goes out, leaving the door 
open.'] 

JENNY 

[Gathers the dress up and follows her out.] I don't 
know what came over me, presumin' to put that on. It 
just seemed to scream out at me " Try it! " I'm so 
sorry, lady. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

That will do. 

JENNY 

Yes, lady, and thank ye. There we are. Step into 
it. The right foot. Now the left. That's it. Say, 
it's a wonder. I forgot the chiffon. [Hurries back into 
the room, snuffling and trying to sing. She takes the 
chiffon from the table and her handkerchief from the 
pocket of her jacket and goes back, wiping her eyes.] 
-C 43 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'll go in the next room. There's more light in there 
— and the glass is bigger. 

[They both come bach into the room. ]\Irs. Pole has 
the dress on and stands in front of the mirror while 
Jenny hooks it wp.] 

JENNY 

Looks as if ye was poured into it. Say, it is swell. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Severely.^ Please don't talk. 

JENNY 

No, lady! [Proceeds to button the dress.^ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Take care. You're pinching me. 

JENNY 

Only me fingers in the way. Clumsy! [Mrs. Pole 
gives a cry.] It's got to fit tight. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'll finish it myself. 

JENNY 

All right, lady. [Walks round Mrs. Pole, looking 
at the dress.] It is chic, ain't it? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Spread the train. 

-c 44. :}- 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

Yes, lady. [Kneels down and spreads the train out.] 
I'm glad the trains are comin' back. Makes the big 
ones ever so tall, and gives the little ones height. That's 
about it. [Rises, and stands back, hands on hips, look- ( "^K 

ing at the effect.'] My! You do look like a queei^. >^^^ ? 
You'll just drive 'em crazy, that's what ye'll do* / -'' \ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE ' 

Tell your employers on the whole I am pleased. 

JENNY 

Sure, I will. They'll he, too. Everybody worried 
over it. It's a dandy colour. Say, d'j^e know what it 
wants ^ A necklace, — have you got a necklace ? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. Bring me my jewel-box. It's on the table in 
the next room. 

JENNY 

Me? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 
[Jenny hurries into the next room, humming vigorously.] 

JENNY 

[From within the room.] Is it a black box? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

-C 45 > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

\_Comes bach with a large, blacJc jewel-box. 1 This it? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

JENNY 

l[Chuckles.'] I thought it was a valise. \^Goes to 
Mrs. Pole and holds the jewel-boa; up to her-l 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Open it. 

JENNY 

Me, lady? 

MRS. CHRYSTAE-POLE 

Yes. 

JENNY 

\^Goes to table; opens box; glares at the contents with 
startled eyes; sinks down, gasping, on a chair.'] Oh, my 
Gawd! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POEE 

[Looks across at her.] 

JENNY y''"^~ 

I never saw so many in me life. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Come, come ! [Impatiently.'] 

JENNY 

[Goes to Mrs. Pole xvith the open box.] 
-C 46 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Choose one! 

JENNY 

Me? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLrE 

[Irritably,] Yes. 

JENNY 

[Hunts through the contents of the box.] What about 
that one? It looks fine! [Hands Mrs. Pole a neck- 
lace; then stares at the jewels again without daring to 
touch them.] 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Having fastened the necklace.] You are right. It 
is better. 

JENNY 

Have a green one at your waist? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. Give me the emerald clasp. 

JENNY 

[Searches and finds it and holds it out to Mrs. Pole.] 
Real emeralds? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. [Taking the clasp and fastening it.] 

JENNY 

Are they all real? 

-C 47 > • 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 



They are. 



JENNY 

I've never seen so many before, — only in shop-win- 
dows. Never had a chance to touch 'em. [Laughs a 
little eerie laugh.'\ Fancy ownin' 'em ! Don't ye feel 
frightened ? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. 

JENNY 

/ would. Look at that one, — it's winkin' at me ! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Close the box. Put it on the table. 

JENNY 

Yes, lady. [Places jewel-box carefully on the table 
and closes it; then hurries back, humming cheerfully and 
arranges pleats in the dress, beaming with satisfaction.^ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Stop humming! 

JENNY 

Yes, lady. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Satisfied with the effect, gives a little, pleased sigh.'] 
Ah! 

-C 48 > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[In an awed tone.] You've got 'em all beat. Nothin' 
like that this season — or any other. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'll keep it. 

JENNY 

I should say so^ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Tell them not to duplicate it. 

JENNY 

I should say not. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POjLE 

That will do. 

JENNY 

[Chuckles contentedly.] You do look happy. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Turns slowly round and looks curiously at her."] Do 
I? 

JENNY 

Sure ye do. An' why shouldn't ye be ? It's one thing 
to be pretty^, an' another to have the price to show it off. 
Ye've got both. Ye're beautiful and ye've got the price. 
[Sighs.] I beg your pardon. [Takes up her hat and 
thick coat and shabby gloves.] 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POjLE 

Are you happy? 

-c 49 :}- 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

Oh^ yes. So long as I please the customers. An' 
you are pleased, ain't ye? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

JENNY 

[^Putting on her hat.'] I'm so glad. I thought I'd 
lost me job sure! [Puts on coat.'] But you're kind, 
as well as beautiful, ain't ye? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

How much do you earn a week? 

JENNY 

[Enthusiastically, as if mentioning a very large 
amount.] Sia; dollars! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do you live at home? 

JENNY 

[Nods; pulls on a glove.] Mother an' me — in Brook- 

lyn. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Is your father alive? 

JENNY 

I don't know. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 
Oh? 

-C 50 > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

I don't think so. Don't see how he could be. Ye 
know, he went out to work one morning and never came 
back. The police said he was made away with. Lots 
are, ye know. Never heard of. But mother won't be- 
lieve it. She says he'll come back some day. She 
thinks he was just hurt somewhere — not killed. So 
she's always hoping. 



;. /<5ih^rsTAi 



MRS. /Cin^rSTAL-POLE 

[Showing a little more interest.^ How long ago did 
that happen .f^ 

JENNY 

Oh, ten years ago. I was only a kid. We had a nice 
house then. After father disappeared, mother went out 
to work, dress-makin', an' brought me up to it — an' — 
we have a fine little home — and — [breaks off]. Here, 
I mustn't go on talkin' to you — 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Go on talking. Unless you have to go. 

JENNY 

Oh, no. The shop's closed now — if ye want any- 
thing altered though, I can call 'em up and they'll stay. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I don't. It's perfect. 

JENNY 

[Standing wearily, first on one foot, then on the other, 
looks again admiringly at the dress.] It's a dream. 



HAPPINESS 

I think. Finest our firm's turned out. [Stifles a 
yawn.'] 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

You're tired. 

JENNY 

A bit. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Sit down. 

JENNY 

But_, — lady — 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Sit down. 

JENNY 

[Sits, nervously, loohing shyly at Mrs. Pole.] Thank 
ye. [Smiles up at Mrs. Pole.] It does tire ye, stand- 
in' all day. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

How long do you work? 

JENNY 

Eight to six. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Shocked.] For six dollars? 

JENNY 

Ohj that's good pay. I only got four when I started. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

How much does your mother earn? 
-C 52 > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

Nothin' reg'lar. Some weeks as much as fifteen — 
others nothin'. All depends. She hasn't got a steady 
job now. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

But how do you live? 

JENNY 

Oh, fine. I've got everything I want. So's mother 
• — 'cept when she worries about father. Then she goes 
on the cars lookin' for him. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What? 

JENNY 

Ye see, she thinks he got his head hurt somehow and 
forgot us. No one can make her believe he's dead. So 
every time she gets on a street-car or the subway, she 
goes right down through the cars lookin' at all the men. 
[Sighs.] Poor mother. When she has a good week she 
spends hours that way. [Dejectedly.'\ And it costs her 
a nickel every time she gets on one. An' she comes 
home all tired an' kind o' quiet-like. Never says any- 
thing. Then I make her take some supper and put her 
to bed an' she's fine in the mornin'. 

MRS. CHRYSTAI>-POLE 

[Looks doivn at her wonderingly ; following a womanly 
instinct she puts her hand gently on Jenny'* shoulder.^ 

-C 53 > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[Starts up.l Want me to go? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Sit still. [^Presses her back on the sofa and sits be- 
side her.^ What are you both looking forward to? You 
and your mother? 

JENNY 

[Puzzled.'] Looking forward to? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Yes. 

JENNY 

Oh, all kinds of things. When I know the business 
real well and better myself, I'm goin' to save up and 
have a place of my own, an' mother'll look after every- 
thing and just work when she feels like it. An' she 
can travel up an' down on the cars all day if she wants 
to. [Regretfully.] Though I do wish she didn't. It 
seems so wasteful like. An' it ends in nothin', an' she's 
so miserable afterwards. Do you know, lady, up to the 
time I went to work I used to look at men and wonder 
if I'd find him. Sometimes I'd ask them if they ever 
lived in Brooklyn and had a wife an' kid there. Hon- 
est, I did. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Mother got it 
into me. I feel the same way now — at times. [Cheer- 
fully.] But it doesn't last long. I know he's dead. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do you? 

-C 54 > 



i 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

Sure. He wouldn't stay away all this time if he was 
alive. He liked my mother too much. And me. Oh, 
no. He's dead right enough. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

You poor little thing! [Takes one of Jenny's hands 
in both of hers.^ 

JENNY 

[Slowly taking her hand away.'] Oh, I'm all right, 
lady. I'm very healthy an' very strong. Of course, 
I'm small to look at, but I'm really very hig inside. Ye 
know, I feel big. Did ye ever see a little dog that 
thought he was a great, big bloodhound.^ That's me. 
I've got great big thoughts, I know I'm go in' to be 
very successful some day. Mother knows I am, too. 
[Running along excitedly.'] We've heaps to look for- 
ward to. Heaps. We stay up o' nights plannin' it all 
out. Ye know I'm only workin' this way with the firm, 
learnin'. See.'* When I can dress a bit better, I'm 
goin' in the fittin' room. Ye meet more people there. 
An' they pay ye better, too. I'm promised that. That's 
why I was all broke up j ust now — when you — you 
know ? An' I deserved it, too. It was nice of ye not to 
send me back. I'd have been chucked — sure. I was 
scared. It's taught me somethin' — I can tell ye. 
[Pause.] But I did want to see myself in a real swell 
dress — just once! [Laughs.] I can't carry it ofF like 
you can, can I ? You know you've got to be born for a 
dress like that. 

-C 55 > 



HAPPINESS 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do you read and write? 

JENNY 

Oh;, yes. I went through public school. Did real well, 
too, 'cept in 'rithmetic. I hate figures. 'Course I know 
I don't talk w^ell. No one does in our part of Brooklyn. 
But by-and-bye I'm goin' to take up night school and 
learn to talk like some o' the customers. [^Laiighs.^ 
They sounded awfully funny at first. Now I like it. 
It's wonderfully educatin', workin' in a store. Ye know 
ye see all kinds. I'm sorry for them as works in fac- 
tories an' places where they don't meet real people. Ye 
know, the ones that can afford goM'ns like that, an' speak 
nice, like you do. \^Pause; looks at her admiringly.^ 
You must be awfully happy. [Sighs. 'j It's wonderful 
to be j-eal happy. I am — sometimes. When I've 
everything all built up in my mind. I love to dream 
out all I'm goin' to do. [Pause; shyly.'] I'm happy 
now, — talkin' to you. [Laughs confusedly.] Gee! Ye 
have let me run on, gabbin'. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I like to listen to you. I'm glad to think you are 
happy — sometimes. I am the most w?2happy woman in 
this city tonight. 

JENNY 

[Wide-eyed.] Are ye? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Wretched. 

< 56 y 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 



Why? 



MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

/ have nothing to sit up at night for and plan. I've 

no father to seek. I know where he is. And I don't 

love him. I'm wretched because I've everything I don't 
want and nothing I do. 

JENNY 

What do ye want most, lady ? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What every human being does — happiness. 

JENNY 

[Thoughtfully.'] I know. Things to go your way, an' 
when they don't, it jolts ye. I know that. [Bright- 
ening.] But I always feel if ye don't get it one way ye 
do another. If I'd lost this place, I might have got a 
better one. It's all in the day. So what's the use of 
worryin' } Seems to me the best thing is to go right on. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

We've got to do that — go right on. 

JENNY 

Do ye know what I think happiness is really? — • 
LooJiin' forward! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

That's all it is. Looking forward. And I've nothing 
to look forward to. 

-C 57 > ^ 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

You're jokin'! Ain't ye? 



MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 



No. 



JENNY 

Why, what are all the fine people goin' to say when 
they see ye in that dress? Eh? [Laughs.] They'll 
cry their eyes out with envy — that they will. Won't 
that make ye happy? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Not in the least. 

JENNY 

My, but you're queer. That's all our customers think 
about — what the other people'll think. I know Fd like 
to have fine things if only to see what the others did 
when they caught me in them. 'How they'd look ! 
" Shabby Jenny " they calls me. They'd open their 
eyes if they ever saw me " dolled up." 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

And would that make you happy? 

JENNY 

For a bit. They don't give me much chance — the 
girls at the shop. Cruel, some of 'em. Laugh at me. 
Think I'm queer. An' they say father ran away from 
mother an' me. An' they don't blame him. They say 
anyone would run away from me an' mother an' Brook- 
-C 58 > 



HAPPINESS 

lyn. 'Course it hurts at the time. But I don't really 
mind it. They don't know what I'm thinkin'. Do 
they ? That's what mother an' me always comforts our- 
selves with. Yer thoughts are yer own. I've got to 
stand about an* run about from eight to six, an' do what 
they tell me, but they don't know what I'm thinkin* all 
the time. Why, ye can be a queen — in yer mind in a 
four-dollar dress an' a cheap hat. An' some queens can't 
be as happy — that's what mother says. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What recreations have you? 

JENNY 

Recreation } Holiday ? 



MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 



Yes. 



JENNY 

Oh, Sunday. That's a great day. I don't get up till 
nine o'clock Sunday mornings. Nine o'clock! An' we 
always have chicken and cake for dinner. Always — 
chicken and cake. An' when mother's had a good week, 
we go to a movin'-picture show in the evenin'. Not the 
cheap ones. We don't like them. Why, all the girls in 
them that only got six dollars a week went wrong. An' 
ye should see the fellows they went wrong with! Bald 
heads an' fat stomachs ! Silly, I call 'em. I want to 
tell you the girls at the store are not that kind at all. 
They're very particular who they go out with. Them 
kind of pictures are no good. We like the ones about 
-C 59 > 



HAPPINESS 

travelin' an' huntin' an' the coroifation — you know — 
all them funny people in uniforms. We love them. 
They're so educatin'. [Stops to taJce breath; suddenly 
bursts out again as a new thought comes to her.] Oh ! 
An' I'm learnin' French, too! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

French ? 

JENNY 

There's a French woman at the store I do things for's 
teachin' me. She says I'll learn it quicker than I will 
good English, 'cause me ear ain't spoilt. Oh, I mustn't 
complain. There's an awful lot to do, if ye take the 
trouble to find out. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I suppose there is. I wish I'd started like you; with 
your outlook. 

JENNY 

[Laughs shyly.] Oh, don't be silly. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Then I wouldn't be looking back all the time. I'd 
be pressing forward. [Looks at Jenny intently; then 
puts both hands on Jenny's shoulders.] I'd like to 
have some one like you near m.e — just now. 

JENNY 

What for? To laugh at.^ 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. As a ballast. 

-C 60 > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

As a what? [Laughs.] I don't know what you 
mean, lady. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'm at a loose end. I'm rattled. I'm out of touch 
with myself and the world. / want to plan things ! To 
look ahead; to have faith in life. An hour ago I had 
nothing to look forward to — nothing. You've roused 
me. If you can be happy with nothing why shouldn't I 
be with everything? 

JENNY 

What are ye drivin' at^ lady? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Help me, and I'll help you. Give me of your en- 
thusiasm — your faith — your philoso'phy. You seem to 
see light where I find only darkness; beauty, where I 
know only the hateful; the wonderful that to me is but 
the ordinary. Help me to become a useful, human crea- 
ture, and I'll help you. 

JENNY 

But what do you want me to do ? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Give me of your courage, your truth, your loyalty and 
your resolution. Will you? 

JENNY 

I'd have to ask mother first. 
< 61 > 



HAPPINESS 

[Enter Chandos in evening dress. Both of the women 
rise, Jenny draws hack, watching them wonder- 
ingly.] 

CHANDOS 

[Advances to Mrs. Pole, looking in admiration at the 
dress.~\ Wonderful! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 
Is it? 

CHANDOS 

Marvellous ! 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Rags, my dear Phil. Just rags. 

CHANDOS 

Their setting is magnificent. Shall we start .f* 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Where.? 

CHANDOS 

To my " farewell dinner." 

MRS/ CHRYSTAL-POLE 

No. I'll dine here. 

CHANDOS 

Why? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Oh, I don't know. [Touches her forehead.'] Things 
have all changed here. What a rotter I've been! What 
^ 62 > 



HAPPINESS 

a rotter! [^Suddenly to Jenny.] Will you stay and 
dine with me? 

JENNY 

[Confusedly,'] Thank ye, lady. I can't. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Why not? 

JENNY 

Mother'll be waitin'. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Can't you stay out for once? 

JENNY 

[Hurriedly.] Oh, no! I couldn't do that. She's all 
alone. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Don't you ever stay out? 

JENNY 

No. She's all alone. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Send for her. 

JENNY 

It would take too long. Besides, she mightn't like it. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do as I tell you. Write her address. I'll send for 
her. 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

But suppose she won't come? She's very proud^ is 
mother. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

She'd come for you? 

JENNY 

Oh^ anywhere. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Indicating desk.] Sit down there and write her that 
you want her to come. [Pause.'] Do it. 

JENNY 

[Hesitates; then goes to the desJc, sits and writes, 
protesting as she goes.] But she may not come. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[To Chandos.] Will you stay? 

CHANDOS 

With pleasure. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Do you mind sitting at the same table with that girl 
and her mother ? 

CHANDOS 

Why, of course not ; but I thought — 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Goes to telephone.] Wait. Hello. Give me the 
restaurant. [Pause.] Is that the restaurant? [Paiise.] 
I want the head-waiter. [Pause.] Head-waiter? This 
-C 61. > 



HAPPINESS 

is Mrs. Pole. Apartment 512. Serve dinner up here 
in three-quarters of an hour iox; four. [Pause.'\ I 
leave it to you. 

CHANDOS 

[Protestingly.'] Don't leave it to a head-waiter — 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Sssh ! [Silences Chandos^ then talks into the tele- 
phone.] Yes. Anything will do. Anything at all. 

CHANDOS 

[Indignantly. '\ Anything! My farewell — 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Stops him again.~\ And listen — I say, listen. Ask 

them to send someone up at once. Yes, at once. 

Thank you. [Hangs np receiver. To Jenny.] Is it 
finished ? 

JENNY 

[Licking the flap of the envelope-l Yes, lady. But 
I don't know what mother'll say. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Give it me! [Takes the letter and reads the address.] 
/'Mrs. Wray." 

JENNY 

That's mother. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[To Chandos, introducing them.'] This is Miss Wray 
— Mr. Chandos. [Chandos bows smilingly.] 
-C 65 > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[Holds her hand out timidly.] Jenny's my name. 

CHANDOS 

Glad to meet you. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

May I use your car? 

CHANDOS 

Certainly. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I'll send this. [Goes out.] 

JENNY 

[Surreptitiously taJces out an old cheaply-framed 
daguerreotype, rubs it and looks at it, then at Chandos.J 
What did you say your name is? 

CHANDOS 

[Looks at her amusedly.] Chandos. 

JENNY 

Sure? 

CHANDOS 

Quite. 

JENNY 

Did you ever live in Brooklyn? 

CHANDOS 

Never. 

< 6Q > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 
Oh! 

CHANDOS 

Why? 

JENNY 

You look awfully like he did — only yer dressed 
different. 

CHANDOS N 

Like whom? 

JENNY 

My father. 

CHANDOS 

Really? [Laughs.] 

JENNY 

I'm sure mother '11 ask ye if she comes. [Sits down, 
looking at the photo.] 

[Enter Mrs. Chrystal-Pole. Chandos, suppressing 
his laughter, walks over to Mrs. Pole.] 

JENNY 

[Touches Chandos's arm as he passes her.] Are ye 
sure ye never lived in Brooklyn? 

CHANDOS 

[First looks at her, then moves to Mrs. Pole.] Who 
is she? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

She's come out of nowhere to us. 
-C 67 > 



HAPPINESS 

CHANDOS 

[In amazement.'] Us? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

You and me. 

CHANDOS 

What for? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

To help us to look forward. [Goes to Jenny.] 
Come, take off your coat and your hat and your gloves. 
[Assists her with them.] 

JENNY 

It's nice of you to ask us. But I don't think we 
should — really — 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Why not? 

JENNY 

Like this? [Points to her shabby dress.] 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

What does that matter? Remember, you have your 
thoughts. 

JENNY 

Yes, lady. [Takes off coat. Mrs. Pole puts coat on 
table. Jenny hands Mrs. Chrystal-Pole her hat.] 

MRS. CHRYSTAI.-POI.E 

Is it a bargain? 

-C 68 > 



HAPPINESS 

JENNY 

[Laughs cheerfully and touches the shabby little hat.^ 
Yes, it was. How did you know ? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

I mean, will you help me — and let me help you ? 

JENNY 

I'd like to. 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

[Presses her down onto the couch into a comfortable 
position, then goes to Chandos.] If there were more 
lilie her, there would be fewer like us. 

CHANDOS 

Why? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

She's a real human being. She's found what we've 
never known. 

CHANDOS 

Yes? 

MRS. CHRYSTAL-POLE 

Happiness. 

JENNY 

[Nervously locking and unlocking her fingers, a wor- 
ried look in her eyes, a tremor running through her thin 
little body, murmurs under her breath.] I wonder if 
mother will come? 



< 69 y 



JUST AS WELL 

Written in 1898 
Revised for Production, 1914) 



CHARACTERS 

Hon. Doleen Sweetmarch Maid 

Mrs. Carfax Captain Trawbridge 

SCENE 

Morning-room at Lady Sweetmarch' s. 
Mayfair. London. 




'DOLEEN 



JUST AS WELL 
A TWENTIETH-CENTURY ROMANCE 

\^The action of the Romance passes in the Morning- 
room of Lady Sweetmarch's Town-house in Mayfair. 

It is on the first floor, and through the open windows can 
he seen the budding trees of the adjacent gardens, 
in from which comes the warm breath of late Spring. 
It is a handsomely-furnished room, made still more 
attractive by the addition of many open cases of 
jewelry, rare vases, pottery, porcelain, an Indian 
shawl and huge masses of flowers. Lending a some- 
what commonplace note to the otherwise brilliant 
atmosphere, in prominent positions are a large soup- 
tureen with a ladle, a velvet receptacle containing 
numerous silver salt-cellars, and a quantity of knives 
and forks. Cards, lying on or attached to the various 
and numerous articles denote that they are offerings 
from well-wishing friends. 

The Maid ushers in Mrs. Carfax^ a gentle, kindly, 
spirituelle lady of fifty. She is carrying a somewhat 
bulky parcel very tenderly and devotionally. 

MAID 

Miss Sweetmarch has just come in from the Park. 
I'll tell her. 

-C 75 > 



JUST AS WELL 

MRS. CARFAX 

The wedding is on Friday — is it not? 

MAID 

Yes, Madam. 

MRS. CARFAX 

[Gives a little sigh. She then holds out the package 
to the Maid.] Kindly unwrap it. 

MAID 

[Undoes the wrappings and discloses two large, soher- 
ly-hound volumes.^ 

MRS. CARFAX 

[Indicating a small tahle.^ Flere, please. 

[The Maid places the books carefully on the table, goes 
to the door and opens it. She steps back to make 
way for Miss Doleen Sweetmarch, who enters at 
that moment. The Maid goes out, closing the door 
\iioiselessly behind her. Doleen walks straight into 
the room and greets Mrs. Carfax enthusiastically. 
She is a slight, fair, impressionable young lady of 
twenty-six ; is attired in a modish riding-habit, and 
has a number of open letters in her hand. Her cheeks 
are flushed from the morning-ride, and her eyes dance 
with the happiness born of health. She is radiant. 
She speaks with the most adorable lisp, turning her 
" rs " into " w's," and sounding the letter " s *' as 
though it were " th," and has a straightforward , 
child-like, naive manner that goes straight to one's 
heart.] 

^ 76 > 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

[Giving a cry of delight, embraces Mrs. Carfax 
e/vuherantly and kisses her on both cheeks.'] Dear Mrs. 
Carfax. How sweet of you to come. 

MRS. CARFAX 

[Her eyes filing.'] Oh, my poor child! 

DOLEEN 

Don't cry. Please don't cry. 

MRS. CARFAX 

I can't help it, Doleen. I can't help it. It will soon 
be over. It is with happiness, dear — just happiness — 
for your sake. I am glad — most glad — that you have 
won the love of an honorable man. 

DOLEEN 

Isn't it splendid — just too splendid. 

MRS. CARFAX 

It is very unexpected. 

DOLEEN 

That's what everyone says. 

MRS. CARFAX 

You are most fortunate. I sincerely hope your mar- 
riage will not be a mistake. So many are. 

DOLEEN 

Aren't they? 

-C 77 > 



JUST AS WELL 

MRS. CARFAX 

Here, dear. [She takes up the two big hooks.] 

DOLEEN 

Are they for me? 

MRS. CARFAX 

Yes. Dean Hole's sermons. 

DOLEEN 

Oh, how lovely. 

MRS. CARFAX 

They are most satisfying. Take them with you on 
your honeymoon and read them constantly. I do want 
you to try and realize the responsibility of the path in 
life you have chosen. It is full of pitfalls. 

DOLEEN 

[Turning the pages.] I'll just love these. It is so 
sweet of you to bring them. I adore sermons. 

MRS. CARFAX 

Come and see me directly you return, won't you. 

DOLEEN 

The first minute I'm back — really. 

MRS. CARFAX 

[Cries.] I do hope you will be happy. But it is a 
great risk. 

DOLEEN 

I've not taken it yet. So don't cry, Mrs. Carfax. 
Just listen to this. [Reads one of the open letters.] 
-C 78 > 



JUST AS WELL 

"Good old Do. So it's all right, eh? Jolly glad. 
Best of luck, old girl. You'll have to tighten the rein 
a bit, now. Trawbridge has a hard mouth. You had 
better ride him on the curb." Isn't the bracelet a dear ? 
[DoLEEN shows it to Mrs. Carfax and kisses it.^ 
" Tons of kisses. Yours to a turn. Gyp." We were 
at school together, you know. I rather thought she 
wanted Trawbridge herself, poor dear. Isn't it a sweet 
letter.?' 

MRS. CARFAX 

l^Severely.'j A very flipant, worldly letter. 

DOLEEN 

Oh, she's very worldly. Very. But isn't it a pretty 
bracelet? What does she mean, "ride Trawbridge on 
the curb " ? I think that's horrid. Oh, you must hear 
this one. [Reads another.] " Dear Miss Sweetmarch. 
I have just heard the news of your approaching mar- 
riage. I need hardly say how surprised I am — how 
shocked I am" — [breaks off]. No, that isn't the one. 
That's from poor old Clifford. He thought I was in love 
with him. Poor old silly. [Takes up a pearl cross.] 
Nice of him to send me that, wasn't it? The stupid boy, 
of course I wasn't in earnest and he ought to have 
known it. 

MRS. CARFAX 

You understand, Doleen, you must never flirt again. 

DOLEEN 

I should think not. This is from my brother. He's 
-C 79 > 



JUST AS WELL 

a little rascal himself. [Reads.'\ " Dearest Sid. You 
have taken a rise out of us all. Fancy old Trawbridge ! 
Didn't think he had it in him. Never mind, he's all 
right. Give him a chance, won't you? I am sending 
you the biggest tureen I can find. You are bound to 
fall in the soup." It sounds disgustingly vulgar. " The 
ladle is to match. Your loving brother, Freddie." 
Don't like that at all. Isn't this beautiful? [Shows 
jeiv el-case. '] From Colonel Crawford. He's to be the 
best man. \Pichs up another case.'\ Oh, what a duck ! 
[Runs across to mirror and fastens it on. Hurries back 
to table and sees the other cases.^ Knives. Why do 
people send knives? Silly things. Salt cellars. Twelve 
of them. Isn't it ridiculous ? One would think we were 
going to live on salt. [Suddenly/.] Oh, Mrs. Carfax, 
I ought not to keep them. I won't keep them. I must 
send them back. I will send them back. 

MRS. CARFAX 

What for? 

DOLEJEN 

Because I don't love him. I don't love him. I know 
now I never did love him. 

MRS. CARFAX 

Then why did you become engaged? 

DOLEEN 

I don't know. I didn't ask him to marry me. I don't 
think he ever asked me. Only people talked about us 

-C 80 > 



JUST AS WELL 

— and I let him talk to me — and now they've sent all 
these. Isn't it awful? 

MRS. CARFAX 

If YOU don't love him, you must not marry him. 

DOLEEN 

I won't. I'm sure I could never make him happy. 
He's so fussy. And so serious. And I think I love 
someone else. Claude Plumleigh. I think I do. He's 
so jolly. And he has five thousand a year, a shooting- 
box, a yacht, and an uncle worth a million. Of course, 
that isn't the reason. 

MRS. CARFAX 

Doleen — 

DOLEEN 

Poor Trawbridge. He's only got his pay and his 
father's allowance, which isn't much. When his father 
dies, of course, he'll be quite well off. But then the 
General may live to a hundred, poor man, and we'd be 
so shabby, waiting. No. I'm sure it's for the best. 
Claude's a real chance. And I'm really fond of him — 
at least I think I am. 

MRS. CARFAX 

There must be no doubt before marriage, Doleen. 

DOLEEN 

I should think not. 

MRS. CARFAX 

Marriage, my dear, is like an egg. 

< SI y 



JUST AS WELL 

DOI.EEN 

An egg? 

MRS. CARFAX 

If there is any doubt, there is no doubt. 

DOLEEN 

You mean a rotten egg ! 

MRS. CARFAX 

And an unhappy marriage. 

DOI.EEN 

Oh, I must break it off. But it does seem a shame to 
send all these beautiful things back. I wonder if I 
could keep — no, nothing. If I marry Claude, they 
can send them all to me again. [She runs from one to 
the other, touching some of them longingly, some 
caressingly, picks up the shawl and reads from the card 
attached.] " From General Sir Cholmondeley Traw- 
bridge. Jullundur, Punjaub, India. My sincerest 
wishes for your happiness." [Puts shawl on.] He 
must be a dear old thing, but he has lived a long time. 

MRS. CARFAX 

Does Captain Trawbridge know you do not care for 
him? 

DOLEEN 

Not in the least. He doesn't even suspect it. 

MRS. CARFAX 

And he loves you? 

•C 82 > 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEJEN 

He's perfectly mad about me. 

MRS. CARFAX 

You must not let it go on any longer. You must 
break it off at once. 

DOLEEN 

I am so glad you think that, too. The moment he 
comes in I'll just rush at him and get it over. Poor old 
Hastings. I wish he didn't stammer. It's so silly. 
And he always stammers in the wrong place. [Ring 
heard faintly in the distance. Excitedly.'] There he 
is. It's just his time. He calls every morning at 11 :30, 
as if it were parade. I do hope he won't make a scene. 
I can't help it if he does. Won't you stay and help me } 

MRS. CARFAX 

No, I will not. 

DOLEEN 

Oh, please ! It would be so nice to have you tell him. 

MRS. CARFAX 

You must learn to take the responsibility of your own 
acts. Such a marriage without love would have been 
terrible. 

DOI.EEN 

[Embracing her.] 1 knew you'd stand by me, you 
angel. 

[Enter Maid.] 

-C 83 > 



JUST AS WELL 

MAID 

Captain Trawbridge. 

DOLEEN 

In here. 

MRS. CARFAX 

Wait, I'll go. 

DOLEEN 

Do please help me to break it to him — 

MRS. CARFAX 

[Draws herself up.] Remember, it is your duty. 
Follow it. 

DOLEEN 

Don't fear, dear Mrs. Carfax. 

MRS. CARFAX 

I will pray for you tonight. 

DOEEEN 

That will be sweet of you. 

[Mrs. Carfax passes out with Maid. Doleen sits at 
piano and plays and si^igs. Enter Captain Hastings 
Trawbridge, a smart, well-groomed officer, very fash- 
ionably dressed, deliberate of speech except when ex- 
cited, then he stammers; he is very serious and some- 
what miserable. He advances slowly into the room 
and stands looking mournfully at the presents. Do- 
leen stops singing, but continues to play.] 

< 8^ > 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

He's there. I can feel him all down my spine. 
[Shivers.'] 

CAPTAIN THAWBEIDGE 

[Turning round front preseiits.] Doleen. 

DOLEEN 

[Starting up.^ Oh ! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Good-morning. 

DOLEEN 

You are early? 

CAPTAIN THAWBRIDGE 

Think not. [Opens xmtch.^ 11:30. Thought so. 
How are you.^ 

DOEEEN 

Very fit. How are you? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Jolly. [Sighs heavily.] Is Lady Sweetmarch in? 

DOLEEN 

No. They have all gone to Tate's. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBPtlDGE 

Q-q-quite alone? 

DOLEEN 

Quite. 

< 85 y 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TUAWBUIDGE 

No one likely to disturb us? 

DOLEEN 

No one. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Glad. [Looking at presents.] More of 'em? 

DOLEEN 

Yes. Twenty since yesterday. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Gloomily.] On Friday! 

DOLEEN 

Er — yes — Hastings — on Friday — that is if - 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Awfully near! 

DOLEEN , 

Isn't it ? Do you know, I — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

S-s-serious b-b-business, isn't it? 

DOXEEN 

What is? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Friday's. 

DOLEEN 

Oh, yes; ha, ha! [Laughs nervously.] But — 
-C 86 > 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Thought it well out? [^Loohs at her anxiously. "^ 

DOLEEN 

[Jumping at the opportunity.'] Yes^ Hastings, I have, 
and I have come to the conclusion — 

CAPTAIN THAWBRIDGE 

Must go on with it? Thought as much. [Sighs.] 

DOLEEN 

Well, really, ha, ha! [Laughs.] As a matter of fact 
I was going to — [A little nearer to him.] 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I know, I know. It's dreadful. So near, too. 

DOLEEN 

Yes, but what I was going to say was — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Don't let us talk about it. [Picking up jewel-case,] 

DOLEEN 

[Growing excited.] But I must. Hastings, I can't — • 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I say, they're j-j -jolly. [Holding up a diamond 
spray.] 

DOLEEN 

Aren't they ? Er — but I — 
-C 8T > 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Tried them on? 

DOLEEN 

I have. Fancy, Hastings — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Look r-r-ripping at n-night. Wouldn't they? 

DOLEEN 

Ha, ha! Wouldn't they? [Puts her hand on his 
shoulder.^ Hastings — just now — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Takes up another case.^ That's a rum thing. Got 
no beginning or end to it. 

DOLEEN 

[Seizes his left hand.^ Hastings, when you spoke 
about Friday just now, a new light seemed to dawn 
upon me. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Disengages himself.] Did it? Never mind. It 
may be all for the best. [Picks up a package. 1 What 
are these? 

DOLEEN 

[Angrily.] Oh! [Turns away.] They're fire- 
irons ! 



CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I d-don't think much of them. [Holding them up, 
opened out.] 

-C 88 > 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 
[Quite sweetly, with an entire change of manner.'\ 
They're from dear Uncle Harry. He sent a cheque as 
well. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Oh } How much ? 

DOLEEN 

Five hundred. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

That's useful. 

DOLEEN 

Wasn't it sweet of him? And your father sent a 
shawl. [Hunts about for it.'] I must show it to you. 
[Finds it.] Isn't that too sweet? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I thought the guv'nor would send a shawl. 

DOLEEN 

That's all he did send. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 
Ah! 

DOLEEN 

How old is he^ dea?-? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Sixty. 

-C 89 > 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

Very healthy, isn't he? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Grows younger every day. 

DOLEEN 

[Trying to get bach.] Do you know, Hastings dear, 
that a couple engaged as we are — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Engaged — Gad ! 

DOLEEN 

On the brink of marriage — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Three more days. 

DOLEEN 

— are placed in a terrible position — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Awful. 

DOLEEN 

And it was for that very reason that I am going to — • 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Yes, I know. 

DOLEEN 

But you don't know. [Growing angry again.] 
-C 90 > 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I d-d-do — only too well. [Takes up the two large 
books.'] 

BOLEEN 

What? 

CAPTAIlSr TRAWBRIDGE 

Sermons ! By Jove ! These are ripping ! 

DOLEEN 

Aren't they? 

CAPTAIN TUAWBRIDGE 

[Opens volume; reads.'] " The thorny path of duty.'* 
Duty ! [Looks at Doleen.] The thorny path ! 
[Braces himself.] I'll t-t-tread it. 

DOLEEN 

[Breaks into a merry laugh.] Fancy, Hastings, ha, 
ha, ha — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE, 

[Solemnly,] I say, don't laugh! 

DOLEEN . 

Oh, but I must. It's the funniest thing in the world 
— ha, ha, ha ! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[His arms full of the hooks.] D-don't! I c-c-can't 
bear it. 

-c 91 :}- 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

Do put the sermons down and listen. You must know 
— ha, ha, ha ! I really can't help laughing, but I have 
just found out — it really is too funny, ha, ha, ha! — 
that you and I are not a bit — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Doleen ! [Solemnly. 1 

DOI.EEN 

[Stops laughing.] Hastings. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Holding books out at arm's length in entreaty.'] You 
must return them. 

DOLEEN 

[In amazement.] The sermons? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Everything. 

DOLEEN 

[Still more amazed.] Everything? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Y-y-yes. It's our d-d-duty. 

DOEEEN 

I don't understand. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

It's b-b-better you never should. 
-C 92 > 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

Really, Hastings — 

CxVPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

It is dreadful. 

DOLEEN 

Why, what has happened? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Growing excited.'] It c-c-can't be. The f-£-fact is, 
I'm a fool. [Drops one of the books; picks it up.] I 
m-m-mean I've b-b-been a f-f-fool. [Drops the other.] 
D-d-damn! I beg your pardon. 

DOLEEN 

What do you mean? 

CAPTAIN TRAW^BRIDGE 

[Replaces the books on the table and walks toward 
DoLEEN.] Doleen! I c-c-can't m-marry you on 
F-F-Friday. 

DOLEEN 

You can't marry me on Friday? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

No. 

DOLEEN 

Then, when can you marry me? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

N-Never. 

-C 93 > 



JUST AS WELL 

[DoLEEN sits in mingled amazement, amusement, joy and 
vexationS\ 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I know I'm a b-b-brute. I ought to be h-h-horse- 
whipped. I d-d-deserve it. But it is n-not my f-fault. 

BOLEEN 

Then whose fault is it? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

It is fate. 

DOEEEN 

Oh ! [Moves angrily up and down the roomJ^ 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

D-D-Doleen, I love someone else. 

DOLEEN 

Oh! Do you? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I knew it would b-b-break your heart — 

DOLEEN 

Break my — well! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

But it is b-better, yes, f-far b-better, to realize 
c-c-calmly and s-s-soberly that a great gulf has c-come 
between us — d-darling ! 

DOLEEN 

Darling ! 

-C 9* 3- 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I mean, a g-g-great g-g-gulf. 

DOLEEN 

Who is she? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBKIDGE 

An a-angel. 

BOLEEN 

Oh! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

If y-you c-c-could only s-see her. 

DOLEEN 

Captain Trawbridge, I think you have behaved dis- 
gracefully. 

CAPTAIN TRAAVBEIDGE 

I h-have. 

DOEEEN 

Abominably. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

She is awfully y-young. 

DOEEEN 

Indeed! [Twisting her handkerchief and tapping the 
floor with her hootS\ 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Awfully innocent. 

-C 95 > 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

Really. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Awfully f-f-fair. 

DOLEEN 

Don't be absurd. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

To spare you a moment's pain — 

DOLEEN 

[Laughing. ~\ Ha, haj ha ! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I know how you must suffer — 

DOEEEN 

Captain Trawbridge, let us quite understand each 
other. This gulf that has opened between us is quite 
the most welcome thing that could have happened. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 
Eh? 

DOLEEN 

So far from breaking my hearty or, indeed, causing 
me a moment's pain, it is the one thing that I most 
desired. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Eh? What? You d-d-didn't w-wish to m-m-marry 
me? 

-C 96 > 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

Not in the least. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

And you don't want to now? 

DOLEEN 

Certainly not. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

N-never ? 

DOLEEN 

Never. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Then it's all right? 

DOLEEN 

Quite all right. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Delighted.] By George! That's splendid! Ha^ 
ha, ha ! 

DOLEEN 

Quite a relief, isn't it ? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Why didn't you tell me before? 

DOLEEN 

You didn't give me a chance. 
■C97 > 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

You were going to^ just now? 

DOLEEN 

Yes, but you would interrupt me. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Fancy that. 

DOLEEN 

Odd, wasn't it? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Wasn't it? [Laughs. Doleen looks at him and 
laughs, they laugh together a moment.^ Someone else^ 
eh? 

DOLEEN 

Yes. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Good chap? 

DOLEEN 

A pet! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Disappointedly.'] Oh — really! I mean to say — - 
I'm delighted. Oh, well, I must be going. 

DOLEEN 

To the — other one ? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Yes. 

-C 98 > 



I 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLKEN 



The Park? 



CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

No, Hurlingham. 

DOLEEN 

To lunch? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Yes. 

DOLEEN 

So are we ! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Oh ! By George ! I think we will go somewhere else. 

DOLEEN 

It would be better. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Well, good-bye. [Holds out his hand.] 

DOLEEN 

Good-bye. [Arms folded, ignores his hand.'\ 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

See s-something of you, sometimes. 

DOLEEN 

I dare say. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Turns to go; stops, points to table.l Oh! V/hat 
about these? [Indicating presents.] 

< 99 y 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

They shall go back tonight. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Pity, isn't it? 

DOLEEN 

Think so? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Still, it's all for the best. Good-bye. 

DOLEEN 

Good-bye. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I hope you'll be happy. 

DOEEEN 

Thanks. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Do I know him — in any way ? 

DOLEEN 

I shouldn't think so. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

No, no; of course not. Quite so. Is his name 
familiar ? 

DOLEEN 

Not in the least. 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

No, no! Certainly not. [Goes to door.] Well, 
good-bye. 

DOLEEN 

[C ailing. 1 Hastings ! [Captain Trawbridge turns.] 
Have I met the " angel "} 

captain trawbridge 
She*s never mentioned you. 

DOLEEN 

What did you say her name was? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I d-don't think I mentioned it. 

DOLEEN 

Oh, I'm not in the least curious. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Pauses, conies down a step.] She's only eighteen. 

DOLEEN 

[Laughs cattily.] A mere child. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I don't know. She's a woman in some ways. 

DOLEEN 

Fair, I think you said? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

As a r-r-rose. 

-Cioi^ 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

Known her long? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

A w-w-week. 

DOLEEN 

Ha, ha ! You haven't wasted time. 

CAPTAIN TRA\\rBRIDGE 

N-not much. 

DOLEEN 

And you are going to marry her? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

That will be my privilege. 

DOLEEN 

When? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Well — er — I mean to say — a bit long, you know. 
In f-f-four years. 

DOLEEN 

[JLaughing .~\ Four years ! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Her mother's wish. Long time, eh? 

DOLEEN 

[^Laughing immoderately.] You are stupid. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Nothing to laugh at. 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

[Hysterically.'] Oh, don't! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Ha, ha! Quite so! Quite so! [Suddenly.] By 
George, she's divine. 

DOLEEN 

[Indignantly.] You said I was once. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 
Did U 

DOLEEN 

Oh, I'm surprised, disgusted. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Yes, b-b-but I say, what about yourself? 

DOLEEN 

That's different — he's a man. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I don't see there's much difference. 

DOLEEN 

He knows his own mind. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Glad to hear it. Engaged? 

DOLEEN 

Yes. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Well, you know — ! What ? Fixed the day ? 



^10S> 



JUST AS WELL 

BOLEEN 

Next montli. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Next — ? I s-s-say, you haven't l-lost much time 
either, eh? 

DOLEEN 

Why should I ? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Quite right. Why should you? Well, I'm j -jolly 
glad. 

DOLEEN 

Glad? 

CAPTAIN TUAWBRIDGE 

F-for your s-sake. 

DOLEEN 

Oh! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

You d-d-deserve a b-better man than me. 

DOLEEN 

I know that. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

And I'm sure you ought to be v-very happy. 

DOLEEN 

I mean to be. 



-{:io4> 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

D-D-Doleen — d-don't you think it is all for the 
b-best? 

DOLEEN 
My meeting Claude? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

And my meeting Clara? 

DOLEEN 

Yes, I suppose it's just as well. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

D-don't you think we might still be friends? 

DOLEEN 

Why, of course; and, Hastings, you can always look 
upon me as a sister. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I shall be proud to. [Looks at her admiringly for a 
moment.'] You were v-very f-fond of me once, weren't 
you? 

DOLEEN 

Was I? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

And I was d-devoted to you. [Near to her.'] 

DOLEEN 

Were you? 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Holding out his hand.'] Miss Sweetmarch! 

DOLEEN 

{^Taking his hand.] Captain Trawbridge! 

\_They stand together for a moment , then sh^ moves 
away; he goes quietly to the door.] 

DOLEEN 

[Without turning round.] Hastings! [Trawbridge 
stops.] Would you like to see his photograph? You 
may, if you like. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Think it necessary? 

DOLEEN 

I'm sure you would be such good friends. [Taking 
up photo-frame from mantel-piece.] 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Would you like to see hers? [Puts his hand in the 
breast pocket of his coat, searching for it.] 

DOLEEN 

I'm not interested in the least. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Taking out the picture.] To know her is to worship 
her. [Looking intently at it.] 

DOLEEN 

[Looking at framed photo.] He's a dear old thing. 
-C106> 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

There ! [Handing photo to Doleen.] 

DOLEEN 

There ! [Handing photo to Trawbridge. They both 
look at photos and burst into laughter.'] 

DOLEEN 

Clara Catchpole ! Ha, ha, ha ! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Claude Plumleigh! Ha, ha, ha! 

DOLEEN 

Fancy falling in love with Clara ! Oh, this is too 
funn}^ [Sinks onto chair, laughing loudly.] 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Funny? N-not half so funny as you liking this old 
idiot. 

DOLEEN 

[Seriously.] Idiot! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

C-Claude's a shocking ass. 

DOLEEN 

Captain Trawbridge, he is my future husband. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

You're joking! 

DOLEEN 

I never joke. 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Well^ Claude's no joke. 

DOI.EEN 

He's one of the dearest men in the world. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I can quite believe that. He cost me a bit when I 
knew him. 

DOLEEN 

And please remember that anything you say against 
him reflects on me. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

And [looking at photograph'\ you threw m-m-me over 
for this silly — for Claude ! 

DOLEEN 

He is a man in a million. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I believe that. 

DOLEEN 

You needn't sneer, Captain Trawbridge ! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Why, he hasn't t-two ideas in the w-world. 

DOLEEN 

He has five thousand pounds a year. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

How much? Five hundred. 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

What do you know about it? 

CAPTAIN THAWBRIDGE 

I ought to know something. My father was his 
t-t-trustee. 

DOLEEN 

And he has only five hundred a year? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

B-b-b-barely that. 

DOLEEN 

But he will have five thousand? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Glad to hear it. D-don't know where it's coming 
from. 

DOLEEN 

His uncle is enormously rich. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Well? 

DOLEEN 

Well! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

That won't make any difference to Claude. 

DOLEEN 

He'll leave Claude everything. 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Of course, if you know — 

DOLEEN 

Well, won't he? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

He wasn't going to, when I saw him last. 

DOLEEN 

Why not? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Well, Claude's such a silly — I mean he's not quite — 
well, any way, he's not. 

DOLEEN 

But I don't understand. He told me distinctly — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Never believe a word he says. 

DOLEEN 

Do you mean to tell me Claude will not be his uncle's 
heir ? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Won't leave him sixpence. 

DOI.EEN 

Then why did he tell me ? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Ah, why? 

^:iio> 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

Oh ! [Moves indignantly up and down the room; sud- 
denly remembers.] But he has a shooting-box in Scot- 
land? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

First I've heard of it. Goes to his cousin's when he'll 
have him. 

DOLEEN 

He has a yacht! [Growing more and more angry.] 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Has he? 

DOLEEN 

Hasn't he? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Of course^ if you know — 

DOLEEN 

Has he or has he not? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Well, he has. Hires it — very cheap ! 
DOLEEN 

Oh! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Looking at photo.] By Jove, old c-chap, you c-c-can 
tell 'em. 



JUST AS WELL 

DOI.EEN 

[Almost in tears. 1 But he's brilliantly clever. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Roars with laughter.'] Clever! Claude! Ha^ ha^ 
ha! 

DOLEEN 

He vras Senior Wrangler at Cambridge! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

He was never at Cambridge in his life. 

DOLEEN 

He was never at Cambridge.^ 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Except on a bicycle. 

DOI.EEN 

But why did he tell me such stories? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

He must have been chaffing you. 

DOLEEN 

Then it was in the worst possible taste. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

He never had any taste. 

BOLEEN 

Captain Trawbridge ! 

-C112> 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I beg your pardon. 

BOLEEN 

I'll never speak to him again. [Her eyes fashing.'] 

CAPTAIN TRAWBEIDGE 

I thought it was fixed for next month? 

DOLEEN 

I wouldn't marry him if he were the only man in the 
world. Oh_, it's monstrous. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

It's a beastly shame. I'll talk to him pretty straight. 

DOLEEN 

You'll do nothing of the kind. I'll talk to him. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I thought you were never going to — 

DOLEEN 

Hold your tongue! [Turns away.] 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I think I'll be going. 

DOLEEN 

[Her back to him.] Don't stay on my account. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Would you mind — [Indicating photo in Doleen's 
hand.] 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

Eh ? Oh ! Ha, ha ! Ha, ha, ha ! Clara ? How old 
do you say she is ? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Eighteen. 

DOI.EEN 

[Contemptuously.] Eighteen! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Next March. 

DOLEEN 

She's older than I am. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

That's nonsense. 

DOLEEN 

I ought to know. She was at school with me. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

That's nothing to do with it. 

DOLEEN 

Fair as a rose! [Mockingly.] 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Figure of speech. 

DOLEEN 

She was auburn last year. 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TEAWBRIDGE 

T-t-tliat is ch-ch-childisli. 

BOLEEN 

Her proper colour is red — a horrid red, too. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Will you kindly give me that photograph? 

DOLEEN 

Let me see — who was she engaged to last? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I am the f-f-first man she has ever known. 

DOLEEN 

Oh, you would believe anything. 

„ CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Holding out his hand for photograph.'] Will you 
kindly — 

BOLEEN 

I know — my brother Freddie. She threw him over 
for Falconer. She threw Falconer over for — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

You are quite mistaken. 

BOLEEN 

Oh, there's no mistaking Clara. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

No one like her in the world. 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

I should think not. You little minx. [Looldng at 
^hoto.~\ You'd be rather pretty, if you weren't frec- 
kled. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

They have a charm of their own. 

DOLEEN 

Pity you haven't a waist. [Still looking at photo.] 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Will you be good enough — 

DOLEEN 

[To Trawbridge.] I'm sure I hope you'll be 
happy — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Will you 

DOLEEN 

You deserve to be — you are so confiding. There ! 
[Gives him photo.~\ 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Thank you — good-bye. 

DOLEEN 

Good-bye. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

You will tell Claude what you think of him. 

<n6y 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 



The wretch! 



CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Sorry I had to disillusion you. 

DOLEEN 

I wish I could have said nice things about Clara, but 
she is really — 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Quite so, quite so. Good-morning. Good-bye. 
[Goes to door; thinks a moment, then goes deliberately 
doxtm to DoLEEN.] Doleen! 

DOLEEN 

Well.? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I say — is she — is she really red? 

DOEEEN 

Yes! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Very red? 

DOEEEN 

A nasty, ugly red. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Shivers, thinJcs for a moment.'] And was she en- 
gaged to Freddie.? 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

For six weeks. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

You are not chaffing me? 

DOLEEN 

Captain Trawbridge^, I never chaiF. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Is she more than eighteen, too? 

DOLEEN 

Every minute of six-and-twenty. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Considering.] I don't like her mother. 

DOLEEN 

A cat. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

She got me into it. [Thinks.] Serye 'em both right 
if I b-broke it ofF. 

DOI.EEN 

It would indeed. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I've a good mind to. 

DOLEEN 

Why don't you? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Are you going to break with Claude? 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

I'll never see him again. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I thought you were going to — ? 

DOI.KEN 

I'll write. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBUIDGE 

Oh. I wonder if — 

DOLEEN 

Why shouldn't we — ? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

You're a dear 1-little thing. 

DOLEEN 

Aren't I ? You're not half-bad ! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

No. And after all everything is arranged, 

DOLEEN 

You have a good allowance^ and India is unhealthy. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I think we might risk it. 

DOEEEN 

And then there are the presents. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Doleen. 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 



Hastings. 



CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I s-sui^pose you think me a b-brute. 

DOLEEN 

We all make mistakes. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Do you think you could ever forgive me? 

DOLEEN 

I could try. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I was very f-foolish, wasn't I ? 

DOLEEN 

So was 1, wasn't I? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

And you think you could .^ 

DOLEEN 

Yes — if you would. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Will you try? 

DOLEEN 

\JLoolnng down.~\ I am trying. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Taking he?' hand.'\ Doleen. 
^120> 



JUST AS WELL 

DOLEEN 

Hastings. [He kisses her hand.'] 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I am awfully glad. 

DOLEEN 

So am I. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Sure? 

DOLEEN 

Yes. Are you? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Awfully glad. 

DOLEEN 

[Gives a little contented sigh.~\ Ah! 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

[Loohs down at her.] Rum things^, girls. [Con- 
sidering.] 

DOLEEN 

Hastings ! 

CAPTAIN TRAW^BRIDGE 

Thouglit I k-knew s-something about 'em. 

DOLEEN 

Don't you? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I do now. 

*{:i2i> 



JUST AS WELL 

DOIiEEN 

Do you? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Yes — I know now there is only one in the w-world 
worth having. 

DOLEEN 

Hastings, fancy! Friday! [Laughing gleefully and 
girlishly.'] 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Yes — Friday. 

DOLEEN 

[Imitating him.] " Awfully near." 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

J-jolly glad, now. I say — we'll go to Hurlingham! 

DOLEEN 

[Clapping her hands.] Oh, it would be lovely. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

And we'll drive through the Park first. 

DOLEEN 

It will be fun. 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Past her house — 

DOLEEN 

And his — 

-{:i22> 



JUST AS WELL 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

We'll teach them a lesson — 

DOLEEN 

They won't forget. When will we start? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

At once. [Taking up and fondling the presents. '\ No 
need to send these back now.^ 

DOLEEN 

No. Isn't it splendid? [Taking up jewels again, 
and trying them on.'] Hastie? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

Dolie? 

DOLEEN 

[Looking in mirror adfniringly .] After all, I think 
it is just as well, don't you? 

CAPTAIN TRAWBRIDGE 

I'm sure it is just as well. [Destroys the photographs 
of Clara and Claude.] 

DOLEEN 

[Sings.] " There came a lover to a maid, 
All on a summer's day ! " 

[The Curtain hides them from view.] 



-C123> 



i 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

Written in 1897 
Revised for Production^, 1914 



Oh, heart! Oh, blood that freezes, blood that burns! 

Earth's returns 
For whole centuries of folly, noise and sin! 

Shut them in 
With their triumphs and their glories and the rest. 

Love is best! '* 



THE CHARACTERS IN THE ALLEGORY 

The Artist The Litterateur 

The Politician The Attendant 

The Financier The ' Dupe ' 



BEFORE THE CURTAIN RISES, THE LIGHTS IN 
THE THEATRE ARE LOWERED. CHIMES ARE 
SOUNDED, SUMMONING THE AUDIENCE TO 
THEIR SEATS. WHEN ALL IS STILL, FROM 
BEHIND THE CURTAIN " PORTRAIT NO. 22 " 

FROM Rubinstein's " kammenoi ostrow ** 

IS PLAYED ON STRINGS, INCLUDING 'cELLO, 
HARP, VIOLA AND VIOLINS. 



Induction spoJcen hy The * Dupe * standing motionless 
in front of a black velvet hanging. She is in com- 
plete darkness save for a single ray of light stream- 
ing on her pale, sorrowful face, 

I am the sprite 

That reigns at night, 
My body is fair for man's delight. 

I leap and laugh 

As the wine I quaff. 
And I am the Queen of Astrofelle. 

I curse and swear 

In my demon-lair; 
I shake wild sunbeams out of my hair. 

I madden the old, 

I gladden the bold, 
And I am the Queen of Astrofelle. 

Of churchyard stone 

I have made my throne; 
My locks are looped with a dead man's bone. 

Mine eyes are red 

With the tears I shed, 
And I am the Queen of Astrofelle. 

In cities and camps 

I have lighted ray lamps, 
My kisses are caught by kings and tramps. 

With rant and revel 

My hair I dishevel, 
And I am the Queen of Astrofelle. 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

My kisses are stains. 
Mine arms are chains. 

My forehead is fair and false like Cain's. 
My gain is loss, 
Mine honour is dross, — 

And I am the Queen of Astrofelle! 

From the Poems of the late Eric Mackay. 
Published by James Pott and Company, 
New York. 



<^3oy 



} 




"the dupe' 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

The action passes in The * Dupe's ' Boudoir. It is a 
sombre room, draped in heavy black and green vel- 
vet. Everything is in perfect harmony of tone. The 
hangings, the tapestry, the furniture — all decorative 
yet subdued in effect. A few admirable pictures, a 
grand piano, two easels with unfinished paintings on 
them. A small, revolving, three-shelved book-case 
filled with rare volumes. A deeply-recessed fire-place 
in which a bright fire is blazing and over which 
stretches a massive, hooded mantel-piece. On the 
mantel-piece are a clock, miniatures, cameos, photo- 
graphs, and one large, framed portrait between two 
small mirrors. A solid table on which are papers, 
magazines, a few books and two large bouquets. A 
lounge with a smaller bouquet lying on the cushions. 
A fourth bouquet is on the piano. 

A cabinet on xvhich are champagne — bottles, decanters, 
syphons, cigars and cigarette-cabinets and a tray with 
glasses, corkscrews and matches. 

The atmosphere is one of Bohemianism and Dilettante- 
ism. 

When the curtain rises the room is quite empty. 

The Attendant enters. She is a woman of about 
thirty-five: dark, sinister, mysterious. She has a 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

quick, 'penetrating look, and a hard, staccato utter- 
ance. She looks around the room sharply as if to 
satisfy herself it is unoccupied. 

THE ATTENDANT 

[Very quietly.} Walk in, sir. 

[Enter The Politician, a short, stout, florid man; hold, 
with a fringe of white hair at the hack. He is in 
evening dress with a cloak over it. He wears an eye- 
glass which he toys with when speaking, fixes in his 
eye when interested. Orchid in button-hole. Genial 
and courtly manner.} 

THE ATTENDANT 

She won't be long, sir. She's dressing. 

THE POEITICIAN 

[Almost tvhispering.} Thanks, thank you. [Walks 
to table, humming tune. Glances uneasily at The At- 
tendant, who has gone to fireplace and is building up 
the fire. He picks up a paper — throws his cloak off.} 

THE ATTENDANT 

[Going to him.} Let me take it, sir. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Thank you, thanks. [The Attendant takes hat and 
cloak, places chair before fire.} 

THE ATTENDANT 

Won't you sit by the fire? It's almost cold tonight. 
[Goes up and places hat and cloak at back.} 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE POLITICIAN 

Quite chilly, quite chilly. [Goes to fireplace and 
stretches out his hands to the flames.] Will you — er — 
tell her I am here? 

THE ATTENDANT 

She knows. Heard you ring. 

THE POEITICIAN 

Ah ! [Handing her a coin — nodding pleasantly. 1 
Buy yourself something. 

THE ATTENDANT 

Thank you, sir. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Er — you never recognize people who call here? 

THE ATTENDANT 

Never ! 

THE POLITICIAN 

Exactly. 

THE ATTENDANT 

A quiet tongue saves a deal of trouble. [Going to 
door.] 

THE POLITICIAN 

Quite right — quite right. 

[A woman's voice, singing, rises from the adjoining 
room. The Attendant pauses, listening. The 
Politician, looking around, catches The Attend- 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

ant's eye. The Politician and The Attendant 
stand a second in the attitude of listening.'] 

THE POLITICIAN 

[With a pleased smile.] Ah! 

THE ATTENDANT 

Her Birthday. See the flowers? [Goes out.] 

THE POLITICIAN 

[Loohing at flowers.] My bouquet! [Smells it.] 
Beautiful ! Dear me, dear me ! [Puts it down — sees 
another bouquet — tahes it up.] H'm! Another! 
How distressing! Dear, dear. [He places it on lower 
shelf of the revolving book-case.] Quite so — quite so ! 
[Surveys his own bouquet, with satisfaction, turns to 
mantel-piece, sees the framed portrait — takes it in his 
hand.] Oh dear, dear, dear — [Turns his head 
away.] How dreadful. Shocking! How could — she 
be photographed like that! How could she! [Fij;es 
in eye-glass — calamines it closely — gradually a pleased 
smile comes across his face.] Dear me! Wonderfully 
like her ! Superb woman — superb ! All the same I 
wish she wouldn't — [Looking around.] I wish she 
wouldn't — ah! [Goes to revolving book-case and 
places photo on lower shelf, near the second bouquet.] 
That's better. Such a pity to have — er — that — in 
so — prominent a position ! Quite so — quite so ! Dear 
me! [The clock strikes nine.] Nine. I must be in 
my seat by 10:30 tonight. The debate opens at eleven. 
[Stops before easel.] Beautiful! Very beautiful! 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

Her own work too! [Takes out notes, looks at them, 
then speaks from memory J\ " The man who gives his 
life wholly and solely to his country's welfare — must 
be ready at any and at all times to — to — [His eye 
falls on the bouquet resting on the lounge'] — to his 
country's welfare — " [Fixes his eyeglass, takes bou- 
quet and examines it and reads card attached.] Dear, 
dear — this is very unnecessary. I wish — she didn't 
know quite — so — many — people — [deposits it on 
second shelf of book-case, then resumes his speech] 
" — to his country's welfare — must be prepared at any 
and at all times to sacrifice his home, his kindred, the 
dearest wishes that bind him to — [stares at bouquet on 
lid of piano] — dearest wishes that — " Faugh! [Ex- 
amines card.] Poetry! She has a large circle of — 
friends. A very large circle. 

[Enter The Attendant.] 

THE ATTENDANT 

This way, sir. 

THE POLITICIAN 

[Alarmed.] Good gracious! Here is someone else. 
[Throws bouquet under table and goes away from the 
line of sight of the door.] 

[Enter The Financier, a tall, big built man, with a 
loud, coarse voice. Black, oily hair, whiskers and 
moustache. He is extravagantly dressed. In con- 
trast to The Politician he is blustering and assertive, 
the other quiet and diplomatic] 



THE DAY OF DUPES' 

THE FINANCIER 

[Seeing The Politician — ■ turns away.'] I'll call 
again. 

THE ATTENDANT 

She particularly wants to see you, sir. 

THE FINANCIER 

Oh, does she.^ [Glares at The Politician.] 

THE POLITICIAN 

[To The Attendant, sidling up to door.] I'll — 
I'll look in another time. 

THE ATTENDANT 

She wants to see you, too — sir, if you don't mind 
waiting. [Places chair for The Financier.] Won't 
you sit down, sir? 

THE FINANCIER 

All right. 

THE POLITICIAN 

How very awkward ! Dear ! Dear ! 

THE FINANCIER 

Nice thing, this is ! 

THE ATTENDANT 

[LooJcs from one to the other, and goes quietly out.] 

THE FINANCIER 

[Examining The Politician.] Old fool! 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE POLITICIAN 

[Examines The Financier furtively.'] A very coarse 
looking person ! 

THE FINANCIER 

Can't stand much of this ! 

THE POLITICIAN 

I suppose I ought to say something! 

THE FINANCIER 

Makes a man look damn silly! [To The Politi- 
cian.] Good evening. 

THE POLITICIAN 

[Nervously.] Good evening. 

THE FINANCIER 

Warm ! 

THE POLITICIAN 

Very. 

THE FINANCIER 

Staying long? 

THE POLITICIAN 

Oh, no! Just ran in for a moment. 

THE FINANCIER 

That's all right. Snug room. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Delightful ! 

-{:i37> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE FINANCIER 

Her birthday. [^Takes up The Politician's bou- 
quet.^ 

THE POLITICIAN 

Yes. I called to wish her happy returns. 

THE FINANCIER 

So did I. 

\^Has been looking around the room — sees his own bou- 
quet on shelf of book-case — takes it up, puts The 
Politician's bouquet in its place and his own in 
prominent position on the table. The Politician 
watches him indignantly.] 

THE FINANCIER 

That's better! 

THE POLITICIAN 

Dear^ dear ! I wish the fellow would go. 

THE FINANCIER 

[Turning round suddenly.'] I had a good mind to 
cut and run when I saw you. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Really? 

THE FINANCIER 

Fact. You didn't look too comfortable. 

THE POLITICIAN 

I wasn'ts 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE FINANCIER 

[Laughs.] Ha! Ha! 

THE POLITICIAN 

[Laughs.] Ha! Ha! 

BOTH 

Ha! Ha! Ha! He! He! He! 

THE FINANCIER 

Glad to meet you. [Holds out hand.] 

THE POLITICIAN 

[Feebhj.] Delighted! Delighted! [The Politi- 
cian a7id The Financier shake hands.] 

[Enter The Attendant.] 

THE ATTENDANT 

Step inside^ sir. [The two men turn axvay and go 
out of sight of the door.] 

THE POLITICIAN 

Another ! 

THE FINANCIER 

I'm damned! 

[Enter The Litterateur. He is a spare man, xvith 
long hair — pointed heard — pince-nez — evening 
dress — white flower — low collar and flowing neck- 
tie. He has a soft, purring voice and keen, eager 
eyes.] 

-C139> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE LITTERATEUR 

[Loohing at the two men, whose backs are toward 
him.^ I thought I would be alone. 

THE ATTENDANT 

It's all right — sir. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

It is not all right. I'll call tomorrow. 

THE ATTENDANT 

But she wants to see you particularly. 

THE LITTERATEUR 
Eh? 

THE ATTENDANT 

Most particularly 

[The Litterateur looks indignantly at the two men's 
backs.^ 

THE POLITICIAN 

That's what she said to me. 

THE FINANCIER 

What's the little game — I wonder } 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Can I wait anywhere else? 

THE ATTENDANT 

No, sir. She won't be long. Sit down. [Takes his 
hat and cane — puts them at back — turns — Men all 
in position — ignoring each other — shrugs her shoul- 

*{:i4o> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

ders with a little laugh. Goes to The Litterateur.] 
Pity to miss her. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

I'll wait! 

THE ATTENDANT 

[Glides silently to the door and goes out.'] 

THE POUTICIAN 

It is really too bad ! 

THE FINANCIER 

I'll give her a bit of my mind for this. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Exceedingly disagreeable. I wonder who they are. 

THE FINANCIER 

I've a good mind to chuck it. 

THE POLITICIAN 

I never felt so uncomfortable in all my life. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

[Beaming on them, rubbing his hands together nerv- 
ously.] Good evening, gentlemen. I regret that I 
should have disturbed you. 

THE POLITICIAN 

[Without looking round.] Not in the least. 

THE FINANCIER 

[Back still to him.] Haven't disturbed me. 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE LITTERATEUR 

I had no idea there would be anyone here. 

THE FINANCIER 

Hadn't you? 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Not the slightest. 

THE FINANCIER 

Well, there is — someone here. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

So I perceive — I am afraid that I am an intruder. 
[Pause.] I think it would be better perhaps if I were 
to go. 

THE FINANCIER 

Perhaps it would. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

[Explaining.] It being her birthday — 

THE FINANCIER 

[Turning round angrily.] Well.^ 

THE POLITICIAN 

[Anxious to conciliate.'] Er — we all called. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Exactly. However, these flowers have already her- 
alded my good wishes. [Raising The Financier's 
bouquet from the table.] 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE FINANCIER 

Put that down! 

THE LITTEKATEUR 
Eh? 

THE FINANCIER 

Put that bouquet down. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

[Glances at card, drops bouquet, rather alarmed.] 
There appears to be some little mistake. Gentlemen — 
good-night. [Hurriedly takes up his hat and coat.'j 

[The Politician and The Financier exchange relieved 
glances. The Attendant enters.'] 

THE attendant 

In here, sir. Be careful. 

[The Financier and The Politician recover their 
positions. The Litterateur goes hurriedly to fire- 
place. Enter The Artist^ — a fair, handsome, worn 
man. He is poorly dressed. He has a clear, earnest 
voice and a pathetic face. He looks in amazement at 
the three Men.] 

THE POLITICIAN 

It will be a solemn warning to me. 

THE FINANCIER 

I wonder how many more are coming. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

This promises to be interesting. 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE ATTENDANT 

[To The Artist.] Take a seat^ sir. 

THE ARTIST 

I would rather not^ thank you. [Moves in direction 
of door.] 

THE ATTENDANT 

[Stops him.'] She wants to see you^ most particu- 
larly. 

[The three Men exchange glances and turn away.] 

THE ARTIST 

You are sure? 

THE ATTENDANT 

Quite. 

THE ARTIST 

[Looking at the others.] And yet — 

THE ATTENDANT 

[Under her breath to The Artist.] Don't mind 
them, sir. She's just ready. 

THE ARTIST 

[Hesitates, then makes up his mind.] I'll stay. 

THE ATTENDANT 

[Goes silently to door, looks mockingly at the four 
men and goes out.] 

THE FINANCIER 

She's been making a fool of me. 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE POLITICIAN 

I would never have thought it of her. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

I must not be recognized here. 

THE FINANCIER 

I'm off. [MaJcing a plunge for his hat and coat.'\ 

THE POLITICIAN 

It is impossible to remain now — \^Goes for his hat 
and cloak.^ 

THE LITTERATEUR 

The risk is too great — [Goes quickly for his hat 
and coat.] 

[The three Men meet at the table confusedly.] 

THE ARTIST 

One moment, gentlemen. If anyone should gO;, surely 
it is I. I have only this moment arrived. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

I was only a second before you. 

THE FINANCIER 

Well — so was I. 

THE ARTIST 

In that case we should withdraw in favour of that 
gentleman. [Indicating The Politician.] 

THE POLITICIAN 

Dear me, no. Not at all, I assure you ! 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE FINANCIER 

Can't understand why we've all come like this. 

THE ARTIST 

She invited me. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Er — she invited me. 

THE FINANCIER 

And me. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

I certainly had an invitation. 

THE ARTIST 

Here is the letter. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Mine is destroyed. 

THE FINANCIER 

Burnt mine. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

[^Searching for and finding the note.'] Here it is. 

THE POLITICIAN 

It is certainly a most unfortunate dilemma. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

It has a solution. We are all evidently invited by 
some misunderstanding, on the same evening. As we 
are not known to each other, and, I may add, under the 
^1^6> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

peculiar circumstances of our meeting, it is manifestly 
unfair for more than one to remain. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Quite so. 

THE FINANCIER 

That's what / think. 

THE ARTIST 

Certainly. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Let us draw lots who remains. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Draw lots? 

THE ARTIST 

By all means. 

THE FINANCIER 

That's fair enough. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Quite fair;, quite fair. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Very well. There is no time to lose. [^Tahes leaves 
out of pocket-book and proceeds to tear them into four 
square pieces. '\ 

THE POLITICIAN 

Er — gentlemen — I presume our acquaintance ends 
here.? I'm sure I need say no more? Eh? 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE ARTIST 

I understand. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Not another word. 

THE FINANCIER 

That's what I think. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Very good, very good indeed. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

There. [Holds up three squares of paper.'] Please 
fold them. [The Artist folds papers.'] On this I will 
write — "Remain"! [Writes in pencil on paper, folds 
it.] There. A hat, please. [The Artist brings a hat 
— the papers are thrown into it and then they draw out 
one each.] 

[The * Dupe's ' voice heard singing from the adjoining 
room.] 

TH 

[Singing.] 

" Lazy, laughing, languid Jenny, 
Fond of a kiss, fond of a guinea." * 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Quickly. She is coming. [They all open out pieces 
of paper.] Blank! 

* From "Jenny" by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. 
< 118 > 



Blank ! 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE POLITICIAN 
THE FINANCIER 



THE ARTIST 



Blank! 
" Remain." 

THE POLITICIAN 

Quite rights quite right. [Goes quickly to door.] 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Good night. [Goes to door.] 

THE FINANCIER 

Damn nonsense. [Goes to door.] 

[The ' Dupe's ' voice rises again. They all turn and 
listen.] 

THE * DUPE ' 
[Singing.] 

" Destiny ! Destiny ! Why am I so dark > 

I that have beauty and love to be fair. 
Destiny ! Destiny ! Am I but a spark 

Track'd under heaven in flames and despair? 
Destiny! Destiny! Why am I desired 

Thus like a poisonous fruit, deadly sweet? 
Destiny! Destiny! Lo, my soul is tired; 

Make me thy plaything no more, I entreat ! " * 

* From " The Shaving of Shagpat " by George Meredith. 

-C149:}. 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

[The curtains are drawn hack, and standing in the cen- 
tre, a hand on each curtain, is The ' Dupe/ a beau- 
tiful woman, tall, dark, commanding. She is in even- 
ing dress, with flowers around her throat, in her 
breast and in a garland round her tvaist.^ 

THE ' DUPE ' 

How sweet of you all to come ! You have been wait- 
ing for me? How unusual! It is I who have always 
waited for you, eh ? Well — have you nothing to say ? 
I see. You do not know each other? You shall. 
[IS'Iovement of alarm and protest by The Politician, 
The Financier and The Litterateur. The Artist 
stands staring at her.^ Come, be introduced. [Moves 
down.] Messieurs les — Politician, Litterateur, 
Financier — [l7idicates each, looking round, sees The 
Artist.] Ah, yes, and Artist. [They bow stiffly to 
each other.'] No, no! Too cold. Shake hands, please. 
[Laughs mirthlessly.] You men are stupid. Come, 
Artist — give your hand to Literature. Politics, yours 
to Finance — 

THE politician 

Might I suggest? 

the FINANCIER 

Yes, I would like to know — 

the ' DUPE ' 

You wonder why I have brought you all together? 
It was indiscreet, eh? 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE POLITICIAN 

It was certainly unwise. 

THE FINANCIER 

Simply ridiculous. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

It was hardly fair. 

THE ARTIST 

Perhaps — 

THE * DUPE ' 

I have brought you all here tonight to bid me " good- 
bye " ! This is our last meeting. Tomorrow we all go 
different ways, and we must never cross each other's 
paths again. 

THE POLITICIAN 

How very distressing. 



THE FINANCIER 

Humbug ! 

THE LITTERATEUR 

A most extraordinary person! 

THE ' DUPE ' 

[Turning to The Financier.] This is what you 
would call a meeting of directors to wind up a company. 
Debts must be paid today, — partnerships dissolved. 
But we must do it pleasantly. A little wine — a little 
seriousness, a little laughter, and then ! Voila ! — Go ! 
Come, Financier, take the chair of the Board. [She 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

places a chair for him.] Sit down^ sir. [The Fin- 
ancier sulkily drops into chair.] Fellow directors, ar- 
range yourselves. Politics — there. [Indicates lounge.] 
Litterateur in front of Finance, Artist in the centre. 
Good. A happy augury. Money helps; letters immor- 
talize; the politician sometimes ennobles the artist. Sir 
[^0 The Artist], you are well placed. 

THE I.ITTERATEUR 

Most happily expressed. 

THE POLITICIAN 

Admirably, quite admirably ! 

THE FINANCIER 

[Under his breath.] Tom foolery! 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Now to business. First — smoke ! Oh, you may ! 

[To The Financier.] A Corona for you — . [She 
selects one and examines it critically.] There — try 

that — and do please look cheerful! Matches! [To 

The Litterateur.] Intimidad for the author. Say 

" thank you " and laugh. That's better. And poli- 
tics — 

THE POLITICIAN 

Not now — thanks very much, thank you. 



Ah — you debate tonight? 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE POLITICIAN 

Yes — most critical position. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

What you politicians suffer. How grateful we should 
be ! [Turns away with a little laugh — to The Artist.] 
Artist^ cigarette? [Hands him one.'] I will join you. 
Now, wine. Who will help me? [All rise.] You 
open the bottles [to The Financier and The Artist], 
you bring the tray. [To The Litterateur.] And 
you — [To The Politician.] 

the politician 
[In an undertone.] Is it really goodbye? 

the ' DUPE ' 

Yes. 

THE politician 

Anything serious? 

the ' DUPE ' 

Very! 

THE politician 

If I can be of any assistance — 

THE ' DUPE ' 

You shall be — 

THE POLITICIAN 

In any possible way — 

T] 

There will be only one way — 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE POLITICIAN 

Er — a cheque — 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Yes — on your tongue — after tonight — that's all ! 
[Laughs mockingly at him.'] 

THE POLITICIAN 

Really J, I am quite bewildered. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

[Holding up glass.] Gentlemen, I feel I shall be 
only echoing the thought that is in all our minds at this 
moment in wishing our charming hostess — " many, many 
happy returns." [They all drink to " many, many 
Jiappy returns/^] 

THE ' DUPE ' 

[Bowing deeply.] I thank you from my heart. [She 
is standing — she motions the others to he seated.] And 
yet do I want many returns of today? And would they 
be happy f I wonder! And now before I dismiss you 
I am going to tell you a little story and preach you a 
little sermon. Is it not good.^ What do you say? You 
all look very stupid. Poor men ! First you shall have 
the story — but you mustn't laugh — it is serious — oh 
— very serious. Laugh! You will never laugh again 
to judge from the length of your faces now! [Laughs 
merrily — then suddenly stops and begins in an altered 
tone — sometimes leaning against the table — sometimes 
moving about — now addressing one — then another.] 
There was once a girl, oh, such a bright, happy, inno- 
^154> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

cent girl! [Turns to The Politician.] Innocent as 
your daughter in the convent — and as happy. But 
there came a great longing in her heart. She yearned 
to see the marvellous world that lay outside her prison 
bars; to catch a glimpse of the lands and of the peoples 
she dreamed of by night, and sighed for by day. And 
this longing grew until it became a fever that consumed 
her, that threatened to burn away her life. She was 
foolish, eh ? Ah, yes ! she was — very foolish. But 
then ice are all foolish. And she, at least, had the 
excuse of Youth. One day someone came to her and 
offered her the key that would open her prison door, 
the golden key that meant liberty. But it was to be 
paid for. A price was on the key, as there is on every- 
thing, and the price for her freedom was the captivity 
of her heart. And she paid it. She gave her deliverer 
her young, trusting heart, and he took her away from 
the home she thought a prison and she saw the great 
world of beauty, and lived in the great world of love, 
and felt that happiness had nothing more to give. 

THE I.ITTEEATEUR 

How wonderful is youth — golden youth ! 

THE ' DUPE ' 

A beautiful story, is it not? 

THE POLITICIAN 

Delightful — quite delightful ! 

THE EINANCIER 

Bosh! Sickly, sentimental bosh! 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE ' DI 

Artist? What do you say? 

[The Artist moves away.'\ 

THE I.ITTERATEUII 

And a very healthy lesson^ too. Love the deliverer. 
Very excellent. 

THE * DUPE ' 

YeS;, but the story isn't finished. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Not finished? 

THE ' DUPE ' 

No; the best part is to come. 

THE I.ITTERATEUR 

Really? 
Charming ! 
Rot! 



i 



THE POUTICIAN 



THE FINANCIER 



One day the deliverer, tired of his companion, went 
his way and left her alone. And then she found that 
she was more a prisoner than she ever had been in her 
home. She had now forged the chains herself that held 
her bound, and no one in all the world could ever break 
the chain that memory held together link by link. What 

-{:i56> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

did she do? Faced the Morld with a laughing face; hid 
away her sorrow; lived freely, carelessly, recklessly, but 
always with the chains around her heart, despair in her 
soul. And she made friends who took her away and 
showed her strange countries. Lands where the sun 
shone all night. Countries where music and painting 
found echoes in every street. Cities of pleasure, cities 
of grief — and the world glided by her in brilliant quart 
d'heures — except when the chains pressed — pressed — 
pressed. And then one day something happened that 
she had always dreaded. She had one love that she 
clung to in the great waste of her life, a love she could 
never speak of, could never show. And the chains that 
she had wrought could not crush out that love from her 
heart. Was it not strange.^ It was for the keeper of 
her child's prison, — her father. He died — whilst she 
danced and laughed — far away from him. A grim 
story, eh.^ 

THE ARTIST 

And the sequel.^ 

THE ' DUPE ' 

That is to come. Rich now, through the death of her 
father, indej^endent of her friends, she called them to- 
gether to say farewell, and to close for ever the entries 
they had made in the book of her life. Gentlemen — 
my story is ended. 

THE FINANCIER 

She is in earnest. Farewell.'^ Bah! I'm not going 
to lose her like that. 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE POLITICIAN 

Can it be that this is the end? Dear^ dear. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

[To The ' Dupe.'] You have interested me deeply. 



[Bows mocMngly.] Oh^ sir! 

THE LITTERATEUR 

I would never have thought it^ never. It has been 
most helpful^ most helpful. 

THE ARTIST 

[To The ' Dupe.'] Why have you done this.^ 

THE ' dupe ' 
Wait. You'll see. Sermon next. Only a little one. 
Politician, you work in a glass-house with all the blinds 
drawn, and everything goes smoothly. But one day a 
blind is left up, the world peeps in, and then there is a 
crisis, eh.^ And the politician has to go. Why? Be- 
cause, like everything human, he has made a mistake. 
This is a mistake. Take care no blind is left up ! 
[Holding up glass.] Here's to the drawn blind. 
[Moving to The Financier.] Financier, your invest- 
ments are good, your house is large, your servants many, 
your wife fat. 

the; financier 

[Looking up angrily.] What! 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE * DUPE ' 

Oh, it is true your wife has lost her attractiveness. 
But there are five — or are there sia;? — children. 

THE FINANCIER 

[Furiouslij.] Enough of that. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Oh, quite enough. But about yourself. You have 
put your life out at " profit and loss " — it reads loss. 
Money buys you nothing that is worth the buying. It is 
a millstone that is dragging you down, and others with 
you. May you lose every penny you have and work in 
the heat of the day. It would be your redemption! 
POVERTY to you! 

THE, FINANCIER 

Rot! 

THE ' DUPE ' 

[To The Litterateur.] And you, man of letters, 
skilful with your pen, brilliant in imagination, look up, 
my friend. Look at the stars, and the sky, and the sun. 
Smell the flowers. Don't walk amongst the refuse in 
the highways and the by-ways. Take the clean and the 
healthy for your subjects, not the halt, the lame and the 
blind. Remember, yours is the greatest power today. 
Don't throw it all away for the hospital, the boudoir, 
and the slum! Look up, my friend. Lookup! [Turns 
to the others.] Why, how serious you all are ! Because 
I have preached to you.f^ And yet time and time again 
you have lectured me, eh? 

-{:i59:}- 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE FINANCIEE 

Are we going to have much more of this ? 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Just as much or as little as I wish. [Turning to The 
Artist.] Oh artist, quiet and pensive, a picture! 
Sweet eighteen; spoilt child; crying for what she cannot 
have. The sun above — the waving corn — and the 
maiden pining, pining, pining. But see ! There is 
someone standing beside her. His eyes look brave and 
honest. He takes her hand. He kisses it! Look! 
The face is like someone's in this room! It is like your 
face! It's a pretty picture — eh? [The Artist 
moans, his face in his hands.] Another picture. A poor 
lodging, a lonely woman, pale and ill, crying as though 
her heart would break, as though it were broken. Look 
closely, again. It is the gif^Vs face, but older, worn, and 
with knowledge looking from behind the eyes. A hid- 
eous picture, eh.^ It is only one. There are hundreds 
no hand or tongue will ever paint. [Leaves The 
Artist: turns to the others.] Story and sermon are 
over ! And now for the last scene of this little comedy 
and in it you must all play a part. It is the scene that 
closes the board meeting by the payment of debts. I 
am indebted to you all — you are all indebted to me. 
I have kept the accounts. Politician, I owe you some 
glimpses of Paradise. Nice, Monte Carlo, Florence, 
Rome, Naples. You were a delightful guide and as 
kind as a friend. Your yacht was lovely — you gave 
it me. You called it " Butterfly " after me. I owe you 
^160> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

as well some money. I return you everything. [Hands 
him a packet, he refuses it.] You must. It was a loan, 
— I took it without hesitation — I repay it. [Leaves 
packet in his hands.] 

THE POLITICIAN 

Really — 

THE ' DUPE ' 

My new journey begins tomorrow — tonight I pay 
back the past. Mr. Financier, what do I owe you? 
[Thinks.'] Let me see. Norway — a happy time! I 
dreamed there, dreamed always. Such beautiful dreams 
too. Sometimes I look out of that little window, over 
the housetops, and dream them all again. This flat is 
yours, furniture, lease, everything. Also a little matter 
of shares with enormous dividends. I pay them back. 
[Hands him a packet.] 

THE FINANCIER 

Don't be a fool ! 



I have always been a fool ! 

[The Financier waves her away.] 

THE ' DUPE ' 

You must! [Forces the packet into his hands.] And 
now, Litterateur — what do I owe you ? 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Really — 

< 161 > 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Serious talks. Paris for a month — more talks. 
London in the small hours — we talk again. All in the 
interests of literature. You thought you were expand- 
ing yourself body and soul in my com2:)an3^ You were 
really finding life in my changing moods — in my levity, 
my seriousness; my beauty, my hideousness; my temper, 
my smiles, my tears. You will endeavour to perpetuate 
me in some book or play and think you have benefited 
literature. Go to a factory or work-shop and take some 
girl with red hands and plaintive face — depict her and 
her struggles, her fears, her hopes, her joys, and you 
will do society and mankind a greater kindness than a 
hundred courtesans, with their scented rooms, false lives, 
false pleasures, false griefs, smiling faces and aching 
hearts. Go out into the beautiful world — leave us 
alone. God has given you a great gift. Use it as a 
great gift. Fly your banner to the sky. Don't trail it 
in the mud. Now w^hat do I owe you ? Why, of course. 
Three volumes of your poems. [^Takes them from the 
bookcase. Reads the titles aloud and hands them to 
him.] ''Lost Souls.'' ''An Outcast of Paris." "A 
Romance of the Morgue." There. 

THE I.ITTEIIATELTR 

But I don't want them. I wrote them. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

I don't want them. I've read them. [Embracing the 
four men in a gesture.] One more toast — and then I 

^162> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

dismiss you. You, Society thinks, are all my dupes. 
Society is wrong. It is I who am the dwpe of all. This 
is the Day of Dupes. From cottage to palace — that 
dupe is woman! The dupe of loye, of passion, of en- 
yironment. Giye us freedom, we dupes, and we would 
not be as I haye been — a slaye liying in chains, chains 
forged by myself but placed on me by you. " The Day 
of Dupes ! To the awakening of Woman ! " [^Puts 
down her glass.'] The meeting is oyer, the board is 
dissolyed ! Take your hats and coats — say goodbye, 
and go out into the night! [^They all go for their hats 
and coats.] Oh! Please don't all go at once! Think 
of my reputation ! But perhaps you don't think of my 
reputation } 

THE POLITICIAN 

Can I neyer see you again ? 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Neyer. 

THE POLITICIAN 

I will leaye eyerj^thing — home — public life. Come 
away — 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Hush! Goodbye! [They stand looking at each other 
a moment — she drops her eyes — his hand clenches — 
he shivers — goes to door and passes out.] 

THE FINANCIER 

This is all humbug — " Butterfly." 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE ' DUPE ' 

" Butterfly " no more. The summer-time is over and 
the beautiful " Butterfly " gives up her roaming and dis- 
appears. 

THE EINANCIER 

I'll come round tomorrow. 
I shall be gone. 

THE FINANCIER 

I'll find you. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

No use if you do. [The Financier tries to take her 
in his arms. Repulsing him.l 

THE FINANCIER 

I'll find you! [Goes out abruptly.] 

THE LITTERATEUR 

Perhaps it is for the best. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Let us hope so. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

I am pleased — most pleased — to have known you. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Glad I've been useful. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

You wrong me. 



THE DAY OF DUPES 
Do I? 

THE LITTERATEUR 

You do, indeed. 

THE * DUPE ' 

I will look out for another masterpiece on " La Courte- 
san." Call it " The Day of Dupes." 

THE LITTERATEUR 

/ am the dupe. I thought you cared for me. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Not in the least. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

No? 
No. 

THE LITTERATEUR 

[Crestfallen.] Oh! [Goes out] 

THE ' DUPE ' 

[Loohing at The Artist.] Why have you not gone? 
I see. I have not returned you your gifts. [Takes 
locket and chain from around her neck.] All you ever 
gave me. Take them! [Throws them on the table.] 
Give me again what I gave you! Go. 

THE ARTIST 

I can't leave you — like this. 



THE 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

You did once. 

THE ARTIST 

I'll make amends. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

What amends can you make? [Paw^e.] Do you 
mean you'd marry me? [PaMse.] You don't answer. 

THE ARTIST 

I would have asked you years ago, but I thought then 
that love should be free. That men and women work 
out their destinies more fully alone. I think so no 
longer. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

What changed you? 

THE ARTIST 

Experience has taught me that no life can be fully 
expressed alone. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

You mean no man's life? 

THE ARTIST 

Nor woman's. It is the perfect harmony of man and 
woman — two human beings forming one complete na- 
ture — that makes life at its fullest. When I left you, 
my art died. My fingers could paint no more. My in- 
spiration had gone. 

-C166> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 



The cry of the sloven ! The wail of the incompetent ! 
Art is divine. It is not dependent on another human 
being. It is in one's self. The need of inspiration! 
The excuse of the vicious. The plea of the satyr to 
the innocent: " I need you as my inspiration." If 
your art depended on my degradation, it is better it 
should have died. You say no life can be fully expressed 
alone. Mine shall be. What has the companionship of 
men done for me.^ What has mine done for them? I 
am their equal by birthright. But they have never 
treated me as one. They did not want the best of me — 
they demanded the worst. And so the politician, the 
financier, the man of letters and the artist found their 
way to the one woman and in degrading her they de- 
graded themselves. It is the canker in their natures: 
the open sore in their lives, that dulls their talents, dims 
their careers, and sends them to forgotten graves. 

THE ARTIST 

Let me do something. Let me at least help you. I 
am sorry. O, how I am sorry. Let me help you. You 
can't face the world alone. You tried to once. It 
brought you to this. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

It is different now. You left me penniless. My 
father abandoned me as you did. But now I have 
money. It is only the poor men prey on. Money will 
keep the vultures away from me. They don't seek their 
prey when they are secured by money. You left me at 
< 16/> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

their mercy. I ask nothing of yon, bnt to go. I never 
want to see you again. I only brought you here tonight 
to show 3^ou what wreck such as you can make of a 
woman's life. The love such as you offered — without 
reverence — can turn the child I was into the woman 
of bitterness I am now. I have drunk deeply of the 
waters of bitterness. I am indeed the " Queen of Astro- 
felle." I have shown you your lesson. Go. 

[The Artist creeps out. The ' Dupe ' stands perfectly 
still for a few moments, then straightens up and flings 
up her arms with a great gesture of relief. Her eyes 
fall on the miniature. With a look of fury she 
snatches it up, goes to the fire, and hurls it into the 
grate. Then she rings, and stands looking into the 
fire. Enter The Attendant.] 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Is the car here? 

THE ATTENDANT 

Yes. 

the ' DUPE ' 

My trunks ? 

THE attendant 

At the railway station. 

THE ' DUPE ' 

My cloak. 

[The Attendant goes into the adjoining room and 
brings out cloak.^ 

-{:i68> 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

THE ' DUPE ' 

[Putting it over her shoulders. '\ Give the keys to the 
agent. 

THE ATTENDANT 

Your letters? 

THE ' DUPE ' 

Left. No address. 

THE ATTENDANT 

Any callers.^ 
Gone. 
For good? 
For good. 
But — 



THE ATTENDANT 



THE ATTENDANT 



Put that in the car. [Points to a box on the table.'\ 
[The Attendant takes up the box and goes out.'] 

THE ' DUPE ' 

[Loohs around the room, turns off the lights. Only 

the glow from the fire in the room. She goes to the 

windows and thrusts them open. Very faintly can be 

' heard Rubinstein's " Kammenoi Ostrow " in the near 



THE DAY OF DUPES 

lance. The * Dupe ' turns away from the window 
and lookirig upwards in an attitude of prayer, she 
pleads.'] 0\\y Thou — Thou who once forgave the Mag- 
dalen, — I come to You — even as she did — covered in 
Sin, an outcast of mankind, despised of women. I come 
to You to pray You to help me to walk alone! \^She 
passes out.] 



THE END 



•^170> 



